


As It's Written

by OldBeginningNewEnding



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Along with one from FOX 20th Century, And another from Studio Ghibli, Disney Universes, F/M, Frostcup - Freeform, Hijack, M/M, beware my flowery writing, crossovers ahoy, repost from ff.net
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 84,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldBeginningNewEnding/pseuds/OldBeginningNewEnding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were many things wrong with this scenario: 1. Hiccup was in a dress. 2. He was trapped in a castle. 3. Jack was thrown in the mix. FrostCup/HiJack</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Once Upon a Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh…whoops; I started writing again. You can thank Valerie Kreiss for her insisting on building up on my drabble and for her input in developing this story; Kat and Scorpion as well for their suggestions and reassurances.
> 
> Warnings: Language and odd plot ahead. Due to the latter, it's somewhat crack…ish (for now).
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but a laptop and certain plot elements.

* * *

Prologue:

_Tales of Magic, Tales of Woe_

_Of Love and Longing and Letting Go;_

_Of Lessons Learned, Mayhap so?_

_By Twist and Turn in Time's Endless Flow_

_What It Brings, We Cannot Know_

* * *

There were many things wrong with this scenario:

1: Hiccup was in a dress. 2: He was trapped in a castle. 3: He could hear Toothless outside, rampaging like he was battling an overgrown eel. 4: He was in a dress (Hiccup, not Toothless). 5: Though he was quite certain they were extensions in the beginning…he was now starting to believe that the curly locks that slid down past his shoulders actually were his hair. Oh, and 6: HE WAS IN A DRESS. AND WEARING A TIARA.

Now that was fine and dandy…Hiccup could just take off the dress…except he really didn't feel like running through an unknown castle in nothing but his skivvies. He could just call Toothless and bust out of this strange pseudo-prison (really? The highest tower in the castle?). He absolutely could—

—if it weren't…for them.

"Well I just don't understand!" Flora huffed as she flipped through a rather large book. "How did I mix up the spells?"

"Uhm…can I just please—" Hiccup started weakly.

"Oh no, ya don't," chided Merryweather. "You are not going out there." The distinct cry of an enraged Night Fury sliced through the air to further the blue-clad fairy's point.

"But that's  _my_  dragon!" the teen blurted.

"Oh, Aurora..." Fauna sighed, patting the teen's hand with evident sympathy. He shot her a strange look but it was wholly ignored. "It'll be all right, dear. We've done all we can to aid Prince Phillip."

Hiccup hastily took back his hand, all the while shaking his head in growing exasperation and mounting confusion as he backed away from the woman. "Okay, first off—my name is  _Hiccup_ ," the teen pointedly clarified, crossing his arms and plopping down on the bed. "You have me confused with someone else."

"Yeah, and my name isn't Phillip," came a voice from the doorway. Hiccup took a casual glance at the newcomer and raised a brow at the sight. "It's Jack," the other boy elaborated only to cast his gaze at Hiccup and raise his brow in return.

An odd sort of silence followed as the two boys unnecessarily prolonged eye-contact: Hiccup to counter this "Jack's" unnerving stare and Jack because it wasn't everyday he found a boy trapped in both a castle and a dress.

(Jack had to admit that though the latter was slightly more baffling, he wasn't complaining.)

Within the ensuing silence, it crossed Hiccup's mind that the stillness was unnaturally abrupt; oh…well it seemed like the fighting had stopped. Well, the battle outside, anyways; there was still the whole issue of  _I'm being held hostage and these ladies will not listen to reason._  But still, the quiet was nice. The quiet let his mind at least try to make sense out of all of this. Yes, quiet was good…

The symbolic gears in the brunet's head turned just a metaphorical quarter-inch before the epiphany came: _Wait a second…_

"What have you done to Toothless?!" Why yes, Hiccup did storm over to this "Jack" while lifting his skirt so he wouldn't trip. So what? It certainly startled the other guy from the way he clutched a Sheppard's crook in defense.

Too bad after a second or so, he had the nerve to look amused. "Toothless? I didn't exactly meet any…unless you mean that dragon over there?" he indicated to an open window. After a fervent nod from Hiccup, this "Jack" person shrugged. "He'll be fine. The Sandman's Dreamdust'll wear off." He lowered the staff; ice blue eyes seemed to give the brunet a once-over before smirking. "So, are you like the princess of this castle or something?"

Hiccup fumed; just who does this guy think he is? However, before he could even open his mouth, Flora beat him to the punch: "Why yes she—"

" _He_ ," Hiccup venomously supplied.

"—is!" And the pink lady with the mosquito-wings had the nerve to clasp her hands in joy like seeing the two of them within clobbering-distance of each other was the most romantic thing she had ever seen.

Hiccup turned to Jack with a tired expression. "Please… _please_  tell me you're not delusional too."

The boy with the frost-colored hair just laughed. "Nah, I'm perfectly sane. I'm pretty sure we're both in the same boat anyways."

The brunet let out a sigh of relief. "Good." It was always good to commiserate.

And then there was an arm that snaked around his waist, and Hiccup right then would rather face a Monstrous Nightmare gone berserk—head-on—than turn to that obnoxious face as Jack said, "But you know, for a boy, you look damn good in a dress."

It was such a blessing to have a dragon as a best friend…especially a dragon with impeccable timing and one that knew how to deal with frosty-haired perverts and troublesome fairies. Preferably with a plasma blast fired as a warning shot right through the window.

"Toothless!" Relief washed over the brunet as the familiar, scaly face of his best friend peeked through the stony opening. Toxic green eyes looked just as reassured as he was…if not a little bemused. Hiccup scoffed, picking up the heavy dress and racing to him as the fairies attempted to deal with the flames ravenously devouring the precious silks on the bedding. "Yeah it's me, bud," he assured, grateful that Toothless found him; Toothless was thankful too. It took a lot of rooftop-hopping to reach his little human.

Jack gulped, not quite as ecstatic to see the Night Fury currently glowering at him from over Hiccup's shoulder. "Haha…I guess the sand wore off, huh?"

"Thankfully," Hiccup murmured as he crawled onto the windowpane.

"Aurora! Please stop!" one of the fairies cried; Hiccup really didn't care to turn around to see which one.

He sighed; why didn't these people just listen? "For the last time, I'm not—"

"You  _must_  be Princess Aurora."

That at least got his attention; well, the way she said it more than anything like he didn't have a say in the matter. Like none of them did. The Viking hesitantly turned to Flora, unsure of what to make of the grave look and tone the woman employed. "If you want this curse to be lifted, you are."

"Curse…what…" Hiccup frowned, signing to Toothless to climb inside despite Jack's obvious objection. Finally,  _finally_  they were getting somewhere. "You mean all of  _this_ ," he gestured to his entirety, "was from a curse?" And it sort of made sense after all—the lack of logic behind all of this was definitely attributable to curses and their like.

"And you're not the only ones affected by it as well." The green fairy stepped forward, joining the red; the air shifted rapidly about them, an almost tense emotion permeating the atmosphere.

Merryweather's eyes shifted about in suspicion. "There's some strange magic involved in this…" she murmured enigmatically. She turned to the others with a solemn confirmation. "I can feel it."

Flora nodded. "It is very strange…now that I think about it, I don't think my magic had anything to do with this at all…" She frowned and by now, Hiccup was growing more and more worried by the second. "Someone else is interfering."

The words echoed ominously in the room, and not for the first time since he awoke in the tower to the three women clustered around him, Hiccup felt dread creep into his skin, settling there like a winter's chill. Who could have done this? How had they taken any recollection of where he was and what he was doing before any of this? And more importantly…why was he stolen away in the first place?

Hiccup took a look at Toothless, grateful that he at least had his best friend by his side…his best friend that was currently glaring quite impassively at the ice-haired boy. That raised another question:

Why was Jack thrown in the mix?

"Who could it be?" one of them asked.

"I'm not sure…I sense no trace of Maleficent in this so this can't be her doing…" The three women murmured amongst themselves and as nice as it was to have the very same dragon he ended up battling to save the "princess" from the same tower, Jack was pretty sure that "Toothless" hadn't forgotten how he nearly shot him in the face with a blast of ice from his staff. Plus, as  _fun_  as this little adventure had been thus far, he really needed to get back home.

"Wait, wait…" Jack interrupted, "so we're cursed." At the trio of nodding heads for clarification, he breathed a sigh. Well at least they knew what they were dealing with. "Okay, so how do we break it?"

"And what were the terms?" Hiccup added, running a nervous hand through Toothless's scales; the dragon crooned soothingly.

"As a child, the princess was cursed by a witch," Flora began.

"Maleficent," the blue fairy illuminated.

The red fairy started again after a warning-look to the plump lady. "Right…Maleficent cursed the child to die upon her sixteenth year." Hiccup paled; oh great…and if that's wasn't enough, Flora elucidated: "That's today."

"I'm gonna  _die_?" the brunet panicked. He only felt slightly embarrassed at the looks he received. "I  _might_  die?" Hiccup amended.

Flora shook her head. "No dear…Merryweather softened the curse and made it so instead of death, you shall merely fall into enchanted slumber, the only means of awakening you by—"

"True love's kiss," the aforementioned fairy piped. Flora crossed her arms but allowed for the blue fairy to continue. "When you were taken by Maleficent, you pricked your finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel, invoking the curse. Only a kiss from your true love will break it and set things right."

"Odd terms for a curse…" Jack muttered to the brunet.

"Shush," Hiccup muttered, still thinking the information over. But really, it was odd and not just the incredulous tale; the fairies were speaking as though the events already happened and now that Hiccup thought about it a bit more, they were staring at him and Jack as…though…they…

Once again, the gears in Hiccup's head began turning. It didn't take very long for the revelation to rudely initiate panic and flood the brunet's senses. "BUT I'M AWAKE!" he blurted, red-faced and hastily shuffling away from Jack; oh he knew where this was going. "I-I mean, I shouldn't have to—right?" He gazed imploringly at each fairy; his hopes were swallowed under waves of mortification as all three women shook their heads.

 _"Do not deviate from the storyline,_ " Flora replied with a wry grin.

Merryweather nodded sagely. " _You must play your part, line by line_."

" _A kiss, after all, is a paltry fine_ ," Fauna added with a small laugh. "Don't you agree?"

"A-a…a kiss…" Hiccup started, still backing away from the possibly (very likely) deluded trio. "From…Princess Aurora's true love?"

Fauna smiled. "Yes, dear."

Of course; of course… He sent a wary look at Jack and jabbed a thumb in his direction. "And as luck would have it…he would be that guy, right?"

"Prince Phillip, yes," Flora nodded.

Hiccup grimaced and ignored the indignant look on the other boy's face at his reaction. "But we've only just met…" he croaked.

"But you've met before!" Merryweather insisted.

" _Really_?" Hiccup knew things were getting bad from the way both he and Jack expressed their skepticism in unison.

"Yes!" Flora declared. "Why, you've met once upon a dream!"

Hiccup deadpanned. "Nightmare," he corrected. "This…is a nightmare."

The Ice Spirit swallowed a snicker; some sense of humor this guy had. "Aw, c'mon. Any more of that and you'll hurt my feelings." Hiccup doubted that by the sly grin on Jack's face. He doubted that very much. Still he felt a little better as the older teen whispered hastily, " _Just play along, I guess_." Yes, he felt a little better that at least he wasn't the only one going through this …though that all pretty much fell away as Jack had him by the waist again, hand under Hiccup's chin to tilt his face towards that obnoxious smirk. Hiccup also felt slightly horrified (among other things) as Jack leaned in closer, the next words to come out of said obnoxious smirk as: "So, how do we do this? Do I just—"

"Wha— _no_!" Merrryweather cried out with an angry jab of her finger. "Don' ya have any tact at all? You're a prince!"

"Oh  _right_ …" Jack enunciated with an eye-roll. Wasn't a Prince supposed to come off as smooth, suave, or something like that to his damsel? 'You must play your part' she said...sheesh. They really picked the wrong guy for this gig. Oh well; at least he had a half-decent partner (though he'd gladly keep that latter comment to himself). He shrugged to an appalled Hiccup. "So…do you like, need to be wooed or something?" Really, he just wanted to get home.

"Please don't," the brunet replied dryly, extracting the offending arm from his waist.

Fauna thankfully shook her head with a faint smile. "Oh no, you can both just go ahead and kiss—"

Hiccup breathed a sigh of relief; for a second there, he thought he'd actually have to be romanced or something. "Oh thank the gods—"

"—right there over on the bed," the green fairy gestured with a happy flick of her wand.

" _WHAT_." Oh good; at least Jack joined in with that chorus.

Said frosty-haired boy shot them a doubtful look. "I think we have very differing perspectives on what it means to be…'princely'."

.

Hiccup would later lament as to how it all came to this: how he ended up being lowered onto the silky sheets of the bed, the finest fabrics cushioning his back doing absolutely nothing to ease the utter discomfiture of the entire situation. But for now, he laid there, hands resting on his chest, fingers interlocked, curls (yes, they actually were his hair…) splayed out against the satiny pillow beneath his head…

Looking anything but a dainty princess fast asleep.

Toothless nudged a lock of hair with his snout, sniffing it for inspection from the bedside. "Toothless, quit it," Hiccup murmured, still very confused and still very unwilling to participate. Still, like in most scenarios, it's not like he ever had a real choice in the matter. The brunet gulped, hands shaking, cheeks flushed red, and face contorted in a grimace. "Now, I-I just close my eyes? A-and…"

Hiccup nearly jumped at the first dip of the bed-space beside him. He really hoped it was Toothless playing with his hair again. "You're acting very nervous about this." Alas, his hopes were dashed; it seemed as though Jack had overcome his initial wariness of his dragon. And besides, who could blame Hiccup? He was just told to pretend to be comatose while some random guy takes advantage of the situation. "Not that I'm complaining or anything." What? It was fun seeing the caustic kid squirm.

Hiccup visibly scowled, eliciting another chuckle from the older boy. Jack wouldn't dare say it out loud; after all, the boy's dragon was right next to him, practically breathing down his neck—but Hiccup didn't make for a bad sight. Just the opposite. But even he wouldn't admit that to himself. Honestly, like Hiccup said: they've just met.

"I don't make it a habit to kiss people I've just met," The Viking scoffed, his eyes reluctantly falling shut.

"It could be worse." Hiccup could practically hear the grin in the other's voice. "We could be strangers." Hiccup could pretend all he wanted, but Jack knew that these little exchanges were making the brunet ease up just a little bit...probably because the he could at least verbally retaliate against their situation.

"Haha, very funny," he muttered. "Knowing each other's names and supposedly meeting 'once upon a dream' doesn't exactly make us friends." Though not even his friends ever bantered with him like this.

Jack snickered. "No, it apparently makes us lovers." Was that a smile on Hiccup's face? Well, he wasn't the Guardian of Fun for nothing.

"Gods," the brunet pleaded, "take me now…"

"Save that for your true love, princess."

Blood could not rush fast enough to his face. "I—" Really. Hiccup would rather not bother to even dignify that with a proper response. "Oh just get on with it…" Hiccup didn't consider himself at all to be a violent guy, but oh what he wouldn't give to signal for Toothless to attack. With a plasma blast. Preferably to Jack's face.

"As you wish, fair lady." Or you know…clobber him with his detachable prosthetic. But then it was quiet for a second, with only the faint shuffling of cloth settling into the air and suddenly a faint warmth of another's presence hovered over Hiccup's nervous form. The brunet took a shaky breath and held it—waiting for the inevitable to come. And then those damn words from that irritable voice started up again. "Relax, will ya? It's just a kiss; it doesn't have to mean anything."

And Hiccup would really like to disagree on that—he would because honestly, a kiss is something intimate, wasn't it? It's a simple action, a simple touch, but that cannot be said for the emotion behind it; the emotion that breathes passion and affection to the mere brush of two lips in a chaste embrace, that fortifies the tenderness and adoration in the feverish crash of frenzied mouths. Because of that, a kiss wasn't something simple at all, not in any real sense outside of its physical definition. A kiss is something of a secret—passed like a whisper, only between lovers, the true message only understood through the cherished tones of love. A kiss was powerful in its addictive poisons, the heady venom of devotion sweetened by the nectar of ardor. A kiss was—

A kiss was something  _magical_. That's why only a kiss could have awakened the princess, right?

And Hiccup was quite ready to say that. He really was. His mouth was open, words ready to spring out of his throat for the cheeky boy to at least mull over. But really, he was only  _slightly_  annoyed at Jack for choosing that exact time to swoop down and capture his lips (to effectively shut him up before he had the chance to retort). He was also just slightly irritated at the collective gasps and swooning of what sounded like three perving old ladies.

And maybe, just maybe, Hiccup's lack of outrage in all this had a little something to do with how his heart did a miniature somersault as their mouths met in a kiss.

They kissed just like that, Jack's mouth against his parted lips, a strangled noise fleeing Hiccup's throat only to be intercepted by another faint chuckle from the other boy, his lips pressing and softly moving against Hiccup's own and it was almost something surreal— _tender_ , more than any the brunet had experienced before. And suddenly Hiccup remembered to breathe and it was definitely nicer now that he wasn't suffocating against the initial shock, and  _pleasant_  as he hesitantly reciprocated the experimental feel of Jack's mouth against his. There was a faint fluttery sensation in his stomach that he would later deny ever existed in that small moment in time, but for now, his heartbeat refused to keep proper time though the knots in his stomach were slowly coming undone and for a little while, he allowed himself to revel in this nameless feeling.

Yes, that was a sort of nice feeling after all…though in reality, it might've not been worth it due to the terrifying sensation afterwards: of falling and fading all at once, the kiss a lingering phantom's touch, the color before his eyes and the sounds of a climactic crash dissipating next before the rest of everything followed—a blank page, a clean slate, heralded by an ominous and blinding white in wait for a tale to be etched on its skin.

.

His head hurt; that was the first thing he noticed.

The second thing Hiccup noticed was that he was in a bed. Not his bed, obviously. This was much softer. So perhaps the spell didn't work? Hiccup nearly groaned. Nearly. He didn't want to attract any attention just yet.  _'Great…I smooched a total stranger for nothing…'_

(He thoroughly ignored the slight tingling in his lips at the memory and the fact that he was sure his face was heating up again.)

After a moment or so of wallowing through indecision, the brunet finally opted for the only choice he actually possessed: move forward. And for that, he needed to open his eyes and hopefully figure something out to get him out of this place…

Lo and behold, after blearily blinking the sleep away, he found himself out of "that" place…

and into "this" one. Hiccup bit his lip and braved a peek once more around the room. It was cramped and under-furnished—perhaps a servant's quarters judging by the quaint and meager state of his surroundings, kept like a little prison and not at all in the same grandeur as the highest tower in a castle. Though one sight definitely caught his attention.

This time, Hiccup did groan. Loudly.

But Hiccup barely registered the noise of utter despair that clawed its way out of his mouth. In fact, he didn't even notice the mob of animals that stared at him in worry, even the little mouse that seemed to squeak in a comprehensible tongue after a moment or two of his unresponsiveness.

Because right there on a bureau…was yet another dress.

God damnit.

In retrospect, maybe bemoaning his fate wasn't such a good idea, at least not so verbally, judging by the irate screeching that followed. "Cinderella!  _Cinderella_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh…so like the riddle there? Haha, it's fairly obvious, isn't it?
> 
> For those who have seen the first part of the chapter before, yes, this story is basically the continuation of my drabble Disney Magic from Better Late than Never; it has been slightly modified (mostly for errors).
> 
> I exaggerated Hiccup's views on kisses; he seemed pretty okay (at least by his teasing) with the possibility of Astrid being forced to kiss Snotlout, after all. And yeah, Jack seems a little eager doesn't he? And that conflicts with some parts of his character that I've written? Well...I'll explain why that is in the next chapter.
> 
> So uhm…I'm definitely rusty, but I hope you all enjoyed that?
> 
> -slips back into hibernation-


	2. A Wish Your Heart Makes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Valerie Kreiss for editing and helping this story move along.
> 
> I altered some things, especially with the timing, but it mostly abides by the Disney script.
> 
> Note: Brunette stepsister = Drizella. Redhead stepsister = Anastasia. Stepmother = Lady Tremaine.

It was a slow descent into madness; the wailing, the echoes of precious seconds wasted with each angry  _BONG_  sounding from the distance…and the incessant chirps and squeaks that seemed to erupt from each corner and through every crack in the room. It was dizzying, hectic, and it felt like Hiccup's brain was being pulled in every direction by mysterious forces in dire need to have its say—guidance, condolence, or a warning, he did not know.

" _Cinderella! CINDERELLA_!" Oh no…the voices were getting angrier…

But, as with most things, Hiccup opted for the best choice he could afford at that moment: "Ugh…I knew I shouldn't have trusted them…" Moan and grumble for a bit before he pushed himself out of bed to start this little adventure. The brunet sighed at the sight of his sleeping attire and duly noted that he would just have to get used to that breezy feeling around his legs. But then the strangest little sight grabbed his attention—of a mouse donned in tiny shoes, jacket, and hat and wearing a very excited expression aimed right at him. "…Y-yes?"

"Cinderelly!" Jaq squeaked. "New mouse in the house. Brand new. Never saw before. Visitor, visitor!"

He really should have expected that. "…The mouse talks." Hiccup blinked and eyed the room around him; a whole village of little mice in dresses and hats, in shoes and coats, eyed him with affectionate worry. Oh look…there were birds too. "I-I think I need to lie down…" he rasped, the room starting to spin a bit as his hands sought the bed.

" _Cinderella_!"

"No time, Cinderelly!" And then little birds were tugging Hiccup by the wrist of his nightgown and directing him towards the folding screen as the tiny mouse animatedly chattered on. "Gotta get him out! Trap! Trap!"

"He's in a trap?" Hair disheveled and nightgown discarded, Hiccup peeked out of the screen and yelped as the little bluebirds so kindly dumped cold water over his head. Oh well…beats Toothless grooming him with his fish-breath tongue. "W-w-where?" he chattered, wiping the wet bangs over his eyes.

The little mouse only motioned for him to get going, so with a sigh, Hiccup grabbed the sponge with a grateful, but rather forced, grin from the little birds and washed himself as the tiny pitter-patter of feet and a melody of chirps and squeaks filled the tiny attic room. To keep his sanity in check, he refused to hum to the melody of some random and seemingly rehearsed song. Hiccup shook his head dolefully, still trying to calm the internal panic of Toothless's unknown whereabouts. Maybe once he found his best friend, they could just go with his original plan and get out of here and hopefully get to Berk within a few days' time.

Upon his exit from the protection of the screen, Hiccup groaned at the sight that awaited him: oh yes, the raggedy little dress and apron, happily being tended to by the friendly, resident animals. With a resigned sigh (and the fact that he was just a little bit trepid about scouring an unfamiliar female's room for clothes), he put on the dress.

"Dress dress for him too!" piped a little voice from below. Unsurprisingly, it was the same little mouse from before.

Hiccup supposed that clothing this newcomer was some sort of initiation to their little village. "Whe—oh…huh…" He watched with fascination as the little team of mice collaborated in opening the bureau to reveal an assortment of mice-sized garments. "…So…Cinderella sews clothes for mice?" he mused as he plucked a pair of shoes, a hat, and a tiny shirt from the drawer.

"Cinderelly! Hurry!" Jaq urged; who knows when the screaming stepsisters would start up again?

And so with that, Hiccup trailed after the lead mouse down a series of creaky stairs, still a bit dazed and without any real idea what was going on.

The mouse turned to him with a strange look and eyed his prosthetic. "Cinderelly, what happen?"

"It was amputated after a dragon burned most of it off," the teen grunted. Jaq seemed like he wanted to ask more but the question was put on hold as they caught sight of an iron cage resting on the floor, and within it, a large mouse cowering in one corner of its prison.

Hiccup could sympathize with that situation. "Oh…poor guy's scared to death." He gingerly picked up the cage in an attempt not to rattle the little creature inside it too much. He lifted the latch in a show of peace. He looked at the creature with uncertainty for a moment. "Do you uh…have a name?" He wasn't completely sure if  _all_  mice talked…but it was better to be safe than sorry, especially since these little animals were all the help he could afford at the moment.

After a few seconds of silence and a curious look from the unnamed mouse, Hiccup sighed; he was never very good at this. "I guess not, hm? Well, I can't let you scurry free without one." The mouse looked to be quite excited to receive a name, so Hiccup guessed he'd have to make it good. With a thoughtful sound, Hiccup finally came to a decision: "…what about Magnus?" The teen almost laughed as the hopeful look on the creature's face died. "Or Gus for short?" He grinned as Gus seemed to like that alternative. He handed the clothing to Gus, noting that perhaps he should have taken a larger shirt for the robust rodent.

" _Cinderella_!"

The teen groaned. "I'm coming!" Hiccup had to admit, he was at least grateful that whoever those voices belonged to did nothing more than annoy him with every passing call of his "name." Still, he was at a disadvantage here: he was stuck in an unknown land and he seriously doubted that anyone else would believe him to be anyone other than this "Cinderella" person they kept calling, judging from how the animals were acting. But maybe he could speak with them…maybe he'd find someone else that could help…' _Someone other than little old ladies with mosquito wings…'_  So maybe it would be best to find someone human as quickly as possible. So he turned to his rodent friends with an air of uncertainty. "Uhm…maybe you should take care of him? While I take care of… _that_ ," he motioned to the general direction of the shrill echoes.

"Zuk-zuk Cinderelly, zuk-zuk." The little mouse seemed to be pleased with that decision and crawled inside the cage to greet the newcomer. "Now, now, now, look little guy." Jaq dodged an impulsive attack from the other mouse, admiringly unalarmed by the assault. "Take it easy! Nothin' to worry about! We like you. Cinderelly like you too. She's nice, very nice." Hiccup grimaced; well at least Gus seemed to calm down as Jaq nodded brightly. "That's better. Come on, now zuk, zuk, zuk," Jaq urged as they both emerged from the cage.

Well now that was done, that just left Hiccup with a couple of more things: "Just…what am I supposed to do…exactly?" Hiccup frowned, letting the thoughts escape his mouth. How was he supposed to go about this? He had no idea if the people downstairs would recognize him as Cinderella or himself. If the former, would they believe what he had to say? If the latter…how would they react to a strange boy in their home, dressed as a servant?

Besides, it wasn't only that. There was an anxiety present, building up from every cry of  _Cinderella, Cinderella!_ The words swam bitterly with a throbbing ache in his head and resonated uncomfortably in his heart. He hadn't met the owners of those voices…but something warned him against seeing them. It wasn't instinct, but something learned, something that was certain, marrow-deep in his bones. He didn't like it and if dragon-training had taught him anything, it was to always go with what he knew was right.

Jaq paused, eyeing the teen with concern. "Cinderelly don't feel good?" At that, a burst of laughter erupted from the brunet along with a sad little nod; no, he certainly  _did not_  feel good. With a noise of affirmation, the mouse peeped, "Then Jaq help!"

The tiny mouse gave a determined grin and Hiccup couldn't help but feel like he had aided him before. At that thought, Hiccup scoffed. ' _Yeah, maybe "once upon a dream."'_  But at this point, Hiccup would take all the help he could get.

For Jaq, it wasn't very hard to remember Cinderella's routine: "Downstairs, feed friends!—then mean sisters and stepmother." Oh…so those were the piercing screeches his ears were tormented by all morning? At that moment, Hiccup was ever-grateful his dad never remarried. From the look of distaste on the little rodent's face at the mention of them, that was enough to warrant a silent thanks. "But first—wake Lucifee," the mouse instructed with a foreboding tone.

"Uh…okay I guess…" Hiccup wasn't exactly sure what a "Lucifee" was, but he'd follow the mouse—as absurd as it was—down the stairs to the first line of chores.

It was definitely a grand house, the walls lined with intricate carvings and an air of elegance unseen by the Viking before. But each step wrought more trepidation and less awe than the last. Though refined and ornate, the halls resonated with only his footsteps; it was unnervingly empty. The massive French chateau exuded a hostile grace, cold and gilded with moral decay rotting behind the large doors towering before him. Even the sunlight spilling from the windows only casts a chilling light against the apprehensive ambiance.

It was eerily quiet but for that, Hiccup was grateful. "Sounds like they've given up for now…" As indicated by the little mouse, the teen pushed the door open and marveled at the luxurious room; hard to believe it all belonged to one spoilt cat lounging on a throw pillow. Huh. No wonder the mice hid.

"Uh…Lucifee?" he called. The feline seemed to glare at the intruding voice and light pooling from the doorway. He yawned and let out a strange purr, one of annoyance and correction that one of pleasure. "Lucifee?" Hiccup tried again, this time a little suspicious of the mouse's pronunciation. Again, the cat gave a low purr, almost a guttural growl. Hiccup got the hint. "Oh…Lucif _er_ …odd name for a cat." The name sounded quite familiar to Hiccup and not in a good way; in fact, he shuddered.* "Hey, Lucifer, c'mon. Breakfast."

Seemingly satisfied the teen finally got his name right, the cat then proceeded to ignore him.

The brunet huffed. "Rude cat." He had to deal with a stubborn Toothless before, so this wasn't an unfamiliar sight. He just needed to play it right. The teen turned, appearing to leave. "Well I guess if you don't want to get fed." From the corner of his eye, he caught the cat's ears perking, a veil of confusion falling on its pudgy face. "It's not my problem, I mean, who am _I_  to disregard  _your_  wishes—After all, it's not like you're  _starving_  or anything—" Hiccup bit back a snicker as a large ball of fur scampered past his legs and out the door. "Thought so."

With that, the pair made their trek downstairs, which was about as awkward as anyone can imagine. Still, it helped just a bit that Hiccup had a thousand other worries to occupy his mind. For starters where did Jaq and Gus run off to? Not that Hiccup could blame them, of course. At least Jaq was kind enough to supply his knowledge as to where to find the food and feed for the estate's inhabitants. All Hiccup had to do was keep heading down to the ground floor of the house. From there, all Hiccup had to do was follow his nose to the room that smelled distinctly of a cooking meal and livestock. That, and it also helped to follow the impatient cat from time to time.

Upon reaching the foot of the stairs he had been descending upon Lucifer's unintended guidance, Hiccup nearly plopped down to the ground in relief.

" _Toothless_!" Okay, so he plopped down right next to his best friend. The dragon bleated softly, roused from slumber by the gentle hands stroking his face. Hiccup cradled the dragon's head affectionately, breathing a sigh of relief. He was just glad his best friend was okay. "Toothless, bud it's you! Oh, Toothless…" Hiccup's reassured smile froze painfully; well  _mostly_ okay. "Bud? Why're you so  _small_?"

In retrospect, that should have been one of the first things Hiccup had to have noticed. The Night Fury sent him a questioning look before he lifted his wings and examined himself; after a few moments of befuddlement and distress, Toothless unhappily determined his size to be that of a growing hatchling—around the size of an adult dog. Not only that, but the riding gear was nowhere on his body and even if they did locate the saddle and artificial tailfin, there was no way he could support Hiccup in flight.

As with all best friends, Hiccup was on that very same train of thought.  _'Great…that means we can't just fly out of here…'_  It was a bit disappointing in truth, but it all seemed so deliberate. Toothless as a means of escape would have been an easy fix to this mess, so that was obviously out of the question. In addition to this, Hiccup can't help but feel as though the words the fairies had spoken held some truth in them:

' _Do not deviate from the storyline'_  the red fairy had said. There was an ounce of eeriness in her voice within his mind's memory. Something behind the elderly admonition. Something beyond her control; beyond his control. Someone stopping him.

_Someone interfering._

"Looks like someone wants you out of the big picture…" Hiccup ran his fingers over jet-black scales, calming the frazzled dragon; at least whoever or whatever this person was, they didn't want Toothless out completely. No, whatever was doing this made their message pretty clear: Toothless couldn't help him here.

A loud mewl overpowered by a draconic roar pulled the teen from his musings just in time to keep his best friend from acquiring a taste for felines. With quick, panicky movements, Hiccup had his arms locked around Toothless's scaly head; the teen soothed the enraged dragon with his own pacifying and gentle croons while the shaken feline scrambled away. "Toothless— _no_. No, bud. Lucifer's just a cat."

The Night Fury snorted but relaxed with an angry glare towards the quivering ball of fur by the table. Hiccup sighed. "And as…catty as he is, I don't want you getting in trouble for this." Toothless gave him a dubious look, but bunted his best friend gently. Hiccup needed to keep Toothless out of harm's way. If that meant Hiccup had to do this on his own, then that was fine. So long as nothing else happened to his best friend.

As if sickened by the display, the cat meowed and appeared to indicate to an empty dish. The teen gave one last stroke to the warm scales before getting up. "All right, all right…you know, I have a bad feeling about you." The cat shot him a grin (well, as much as any cat  _can_  grin) that didn't fool anyone. ' _If Toothless doesn't trust him, then I shouldn't either.'_

He poured the cat some cream into its personal dish while Hiccup looked about for some grains. The bored, slit pupils that trailed his every move did not escape him and left Hiccup feeling more than just a little unnerved as he scoured the kitchen for food.

It didn't take long to find the feed and even a smoked fish for Toothless; Hiccup sighed and eyed Lucifer with a mistrusting grimace. "All right…now you—" Lucifer returned his look with a lazy glance. "Stay. While I feed everyone else."

Well, at least this part was familiar; he called out to the animals and wasn't at all surprised how they crowded around him as he threw a generous helping of feed to the chickens and hand-fed the horse. All the animals returned their gratitude with a welcoming grin or a happy cry as though graced with the presence of a dear old friend; they clucked and clustered around Hiccup in happy chaos and once more, the dizzying sensation of surreality struck his very core.

The teen threw down the rest of the feed, being careful to give a few extra helpings to the newcomer mouse before the chickens gobbled them up. A heavy sigh departed from his lips as he glared at the beaming sun. "Augh…I can't believe I'm still stuck…well,  _here_. Wherever 'here' is…" Everything was familiar and alien all at once and Hiccup didn't know what to make of that. He frowned. "Tch…I've been demoted too."

Wherever he was— _whoever_ he was, she was certainly no princess. Jaq, as the little mouse dubbed himself, alluded to the shrieking voices as belonging to his  _stepsisters_. And yet here he was—a servant in the house Cinderella belonged to. Wherever this place was, it was no home to the woman.

And it was strange, now that the thought had come to his attention– that these feelings ran so strongly through his veins. In the last place, he had no recollection of any of Princess Aurora's thoughts, only that small pull of interest to her fated Prince. Even then, it was hardly anything—a tiny stutter, a stumble in his heartbeat in that travesty of a kiss. Hiccup felt his eye twitch from that traitorous slip in his thoughts.

It was from surprise. That was all. Still, those assertions didn't fight the heat that colored his cheeks; Hiccup huffed, feeling the warmth escape with the morning winds, but he knew his face was still stained a light pink. It was then that a wayward thought settled into his mind like an annoying speck of dust that couldn't be removed after thorough cleaning: Where was Jack now?

But Hiccup couldn't find it in himself to be too bothered by it; doing so would be too exhausting. Besides, some help the other boy was. Or at least, Hiccup was well convinced of that.

There was a half-hearted shrug before Hiccup dusted his hands off with the worn apron. "Well, wherever he is, it can't get worse…or any stranger than where I am right now." There was a persistent chime of bells followed by a furious screech and Hiccup discarded that train of thought altogether.

.

Pallets of spring painted across the horizon, a rosy visage of nature in its serene beauty. The pinks of sunrise kissed the infinite blue of the skies while the mountaintops and clouds mingled with courteous grace. Blossoms and blooms dotted the fields like stars and only the rumble of horse-hooves and carriage wheels disturbed the peace of the morning.

Such a shame about the storm clouds in Jack's brain, keeping him from such a pretty view.

The servant cleared his throat, unsure of what to make of that pensive look that struck across the Prince's features for the umpteenth time that hour. "Your Highness?"

Jack blinked, taking a second or two to register that the man was referring to him. "Yeah?"

"You've been acting…a bit out of sorts today, sir," the man informed expectantly.

Jack merely shrugged without offering much of an explanation. "Have I? Sorry, didn't notice," he murmured dismissively. Then again, certain thoughts have been preoccupying Jack's mind—

Like how he ended up in fairy tale land all over again. Jack sighed noisily, startling the footman as he leaned back against his seat in the carriage. ' _Figures. Never trust little old ladies again.'_ He tried to escape, but the servants were relentless in urging that he return home quickly. He called to the winds but only a faint breeze replied; likewise, he found himself near-powerless, as though winter itself had melted within him. After an hour or three of hide-and-seek with the stuffy gentlemen, something those little fairies told him echoed in his mind. So if that was the only clue he had, the only guideline that was given, he guessed there really was no other choice. That is to say, of course, that he didn't  _try_  to find his own way out…

But really, he  _needed_  to get back home. And not home to wherever these goons were taking him, but  _home_ to Burgess, to his lake. Winter was right around the corner (although by the looks of it, the same couldn't be said for wherever he was);  _his_  season was coming and despite what the Easter Kangaroo might say, he did take his job seriously.

Well…now. Ever since he became a Guardian at least. And he was  _not_  going to miss out on the opportunity to give children fun during his season. He was a Guardian now and that was his job and his gift to children everywhere.

Against himself, a small grin made its way to his lips at the remembrance of the first little gift he graced not too long ago. Jack snickered, the memory of indignant green eyes and a scowling, blushing face surfacing from his thoughts.

In all honesty, he really didn't mean to creep the guy out. He just looked  _so_ —okay, if Jack had to be truthful, he'd be a bit of a tightwad himself if  _he_  were stuck in a dress too. Was it too much to ask for the kid to lighten up? Well, he remedied that soon enough; Jack always knew a little teasing eased up the tension…at least a little bit.

…Okay he was just lucky it happened to work, otherwise they really would have had a problem with that kiss.

Jack made a strangled noise. ' _Oh dear god, that kiss...'_

"Your Highness?' the servant queried, "Is something the matter? Your face is red!"

Jack started. "Huh? U-uh yeah—don't worry about it!" Hands against his cheeks, he willed the warmth away as he suppressed a groan. Well it wasn't like  _he_  made it a habit to randomly kiss strangers either. Let alone cross-dressing fish-bones like him. Really, he was  _just_ as reluctant and  _just_ as weirded out…  _okay_ so maybe stranger things have happened to him. Still! He was just glad that Hiccup kept his eyes closed…otherwise it would have made the situation a whole lot more awkward with both of them blushing red as tomatoes. And he'd rather not even wander  _near_  his mind's territory of their actual kiss.

Jack sighed, eyes cast to the magnificent scenery of rolling hills and vibrant wildflowers dotting the landscape—a picturesque panorama of something that seemed to have been built on the romantic visions of a fairy tale countryside. But even the beautiful view couldn't exactly deter the thoughts of utter mortification at his own actions.

And maybe that was his fault—that he had been too driven to leave that sometimes the little filter in his brain that separated thoughts and actions jammed and he ended up readily jumping into the situation to resolve it…

' _And look where that got me…'_

It was quite unlikely that they'd meet again. After living for three hundred years, he knew that chance, more often than not, worked against his favor (not that he'd  _want_ to see the little fishbone of a boy again…or anything).  _But_  if they did, he'd set the record straight with Hiccup: despite what it looked like, despite what he said—

—Jackson Overland Frost  _is not_ a pervert.

.

Hiccup was many things. A servant was not one of them.

"You're late," Drizella sneered. "I was calling for nearly ten minutes straight!"

So everyone did see him as Cinderella; that at least answered one question. Hiccup resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn't exactly his fault that his dragon had nearly eaten the cat. Thankfully Lucifer was none the wiser about the prevented skirmish. The brunet handed the tray to the scowling woman and tried not to seem too eager to leave the room. Because he sincerely hoped that the clothes and beads scattered about the place wasn't for  _him_ to clean up. "And a good morning to you too—uh…" Which sister was this again?

Thankfully (or not) he was saved from the situation by a pile of clothes thrown in his direction. "Take that ironing and have it back in an hour! One hour, you hear?"

"Anything for Her Majesty," he muttered. He couldn't make a swifter exit.

Balancing the trays wasn't too bad…it was learning how to walk with them that served as a problem. He lowered the set teetering on his head to his other arm and pushed open the next door with his shoulder.

"Uh, good morning—ah…" He really should ask Jaq about this whole naming business later; after all, it's not like he can get away for much longer without them getting suspicious.

"Well! It's about time!" Anastasia adorned the same ugly scowl as her sister as she forcibly took the tray from Hiccup's grasp; oh look, she even threw a pile of clothes at him too. "Don't forget the mending! Don't be all day getting it done, either!" Maybe it was best for them to get suspicious…after all, the worst they could do to him was ship him off to sea like any other raving lunatic; that way, he could at least _sail_  to Berk.

He gave an exaggerated bow, a little difficult considering his baggage. "As her lady commands it," he drawled. It was too difficult to keep the sarcasm from seeping into his words; oh well. Hiccup didn't exactly care much for clothes; he knew how to sew, but usually worked with leather from the forge. It shouldn't be  _too_  bad…

The last room that gave him chills; he didn't know why, but there was that strange feeling again—the one that told him to stay away. But it wasn't like he had much of a choice right now either. For some reason, it felt like he never did to begin with.

It was dark in the room; that was the first thing he noticed. And not in the manner that would be remedied by sunlight or a lit candle. "Well, come in, child. Come in!" Hiccup would deny the falter in his step at the voice emanating from the shadows, but at that moment, the teen just wanted the exchange to be over with.

He gave a curt bow. "Good morning, stepmother." The teen tread cautiously; as with dragons, he needed to show respect and to conceal any fear.

Thankfully, the woman merely waved him off after he placed the tray on the bed. "Pick up the laundry and get on with your duties," she commanded without further regard.

Hiccup avoided eye-contact and locked his gaze to the shadows around her instead. "Yes ma'am…"

He was home free—or at least he could almost taste the liberating solitude that was supposed to follow. But alas, fate had other plans as a strident scream resounded through the chateau. Unfortunately, the source was nearby.

"Ohhh! Mother! Oh Mother! Mother!" Anastasia scrambled into the room, an angry finger stabbed in Hiccup's direction. "You did it! You did it on purpose!" With a hateful glare, she trounced to her mother's side while Hiccup blinked and stepped away. "Mother! Mother! Mother, Mother!"

Drizella entered the room a second later, more annoyed than concerned for her sister. "Now what did you do?" Still, that same detestable look was zeroed on Hiccup. The brunet in question merely shrugged.

At her mother's side, she continued to shriek and gesture wildly to the befuddled brunet while the elder woman sought to calm her hysteria. "Oh! She put it there—a big, ugly mouse under my teacup!"

Hiccup paled. "Gus…" Quietly slipping past the doorway, he was greeted by an unsurprising sight: the malicious feline laying idly by with a huge grin. Hiccup gave him a stern glare. "All right, Lucifer. Hand him over." The cat shot him a look of faux innocence. Hiccup pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lucifer, I'm giving you one last chance." The cat almost looked to have raised a brow in defiance. Well, that did it. Hiccup had been practicing this with Toothless for a while, so what better test than this? The teen towered before the pampered pet, eyes trained on him with a practiced look of menace at Hiccup let out a yawp, savage and guttural from deep within his belly and made rough by his throat—a Night Fury's territorial warning. At the predatory sound, Lucifer scurried off, leaving one trembling mouse in his wake. Hiccup gave a wry grin to his trembling friend. "Well, there are some perks to being a dragon rider…" He motioned for the little guy to run before anything else caught him.

" _Cinderella_!"

"Oh Freya…" Too bad Hiccup couldn't do the same. "Yes, stepmother?" He rolled his eyes as the two sisters jeered at him from the side.

"Humph!"

"Are you gonna get it!"

A cool command greeted him as he stepped through the threshold. "Close the door Cinderella." He gladly did. Right on the snooping sisters' sneering faces. Hiccup sucked in a breath; oh well. He'd dealt with his father—a man triple the size of this woman—with worse offenses. This was no problem whatsoever.

"Come here," a cutting voice called. He approached calmly, ignoring the tightening sensation of dread in his gut. The woman, after all, seemed unarmed; he could deal with her. Lady Tremaine sat with cold ferocity, a displeased and vengeful gleam in her eyes. "It seems we have time on our hands."

Hiccup let out a caustic laugh. "Oh yes, between the feeding and ironing and mending to do, there certainly is for a good laugh."

" _Hold your tongue_!" The words echoed eerily within the vast room. Hiccup was wholly unimpressed. At least, that's what he told himself. " _Silence_!" she hissed. "Time for vicious practical jokes? Perhaps we can put it to better use." Her eyes reminded Hiccup of a Whispering Death's—soulless and without a hint of mercy. "Now let me see. There's the large carpet in the main hall," the stepmother began calmly. " _Clean it_!"she demanded with a sudden burst of volume. "And the windows, upstairs and down.  _Wash them_! Oh yes, and the tapestries and the draperies—"

The brunet sighed. "You've  _got_  to be kidding me." More chores? That was his punishment? Well as long as it wasn't fixing whatever the twins (or Snotlout) broke, this wasn't anything to be worried of.

"—And don't forget the garden. Then scrub the terrace, sweep the halls and the stairs, clean the chimneys and, of course, there's the mending and the sewing and the laundry." Hiccup kept his smile in place though he rolled his eyes at the listed tasks. "Oh yes. And one more thing…" Was this to be the capital punishment? Oh Hiccup could  _hardly_ wait. "See that Lucifer gets his bath."

That was fine; he had fixed roofs, maintained the Dragon Academy, served as cook and housekeeper from time to time in his own home, picked up after every mess each time a dragon has decided to "disturb the peace," and even served during the weekly perils of forcing a bath upon Gobber the Belch. This was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

So why did these five little words tumble right out of his mouth? "And if I say  _no_?"

Because yes, a part of him was scared of her, knew that despite how unfair it was about how dogged those women were about making his— _Cinderella's—_ life miserable, he was  _more_  scared by the fact that after all this time, after everything he had been put through, he was once again  _powerless_. And this was a feeling that Cinderella must have known too well judging by the way her so-called  _family_  treated her. Hiccup was well acquainted with that despair—that hopelessness and helplessness in a situation he couldn't yet change. And strangely enough, right as those words left his lips, that strange feeling was gone—that oppressive emotion of fear and desolation, vanished.

"Now I think I've had about enough of this. It's barely morning and already I'm tired of your screeching voices repeating my name  _incessantly_ —and you know what?  _That's not even my name."_ He paused and wondered if he gave away too much; he shrugged and continued. "So really, this is the last straw: we can either just get along and  _split_ the work,  _or_  you can go ahead and find another maid—better yet—you can go find another  _stepdaughter."_ Hiccup grinned in triumph at the silence that greeted him. "Huh, thought so. Old dragons like you are all roar and no fire," he remarked with a satisfied swagger.

Although, as he strode over to Lady Tremaine, he grew more and more worried for the old crone; maybe she keeled over from shock or something. It was still chillingly quiet and it did not help that the stepmother was still veiled in darkness.

"Uhm…are you okay?" He toddled closer, unsure if he should call for a healer or the village shaman to perform an exorcism. "Hello?" And he knew it was a bad idea; perhaps the woman was quietly seething in rage and was waiting for the golden opportunity to present itself to reach in and ravage him. Nevertheless, he pushed just a little bit closer and dared to reach out his hand to the still figure in the shadows.

What happened next promptly lead to a freak-out session for Hiccup. And no, it did not involve a draconic woman chasing him around the room, threatening to clobber the sass out of him. No, it involved the fact that the woman was not only completely harmless in this state…but also entirely—

_Frozen._

It wasn't like the Flightmare's effects, or even the harshest blizzard Jökul Frosti himself could conjure—

The woman was simply frozen. Frozen in place, frozen in time. Her empty eyes peered straight ahead to where he stood not five minutes ago, mouth curled into a cruel grimace. Even Lucifer at her side remained still, not a fur out of place, not a breath in its lungs. Hiccup gulped and backed away, unnerved by the silence. There was no screaming, no demands, not even the house settling or the tiny trills of mice scurrying across the floor and behind the walls. There was only the sound of his breathing, and his breathing alone. His eyes darted to the window and if any hope remained that the old woman might've just lapsed into some kind of age-induced paralysis from distress, it was dashed the moment he spotted one of the little bluebirds that helped him that morning—

—wings still and spread, suspended in midair.

"Gods…what is going on here?" Hiccup didn't know whether to be horrified or grateful. "Did I say the magic word? Did I break this universe?" He knew he was rambling, but at least no one could hear his slow descent into madness all over again. "Ugh…" For once, Hiccup wished these sort of situations resolved themselves…but with time halted and his mortal clock still ticking, it wasn't like he had forever to idly sit by and relax. He needed to get home and although a part of him hoped he was on the right track by triggering this strange phenomena, he was more certain that he did something  _wrong_  because to him, it seemed like the whole universe up and stopped to wait for him to fix it.

And then a flicker of a memory came rushing back—of a stout blue fairy and her ethereal words resonating through his thoughts. ' _You must play your part, line by line.'_

At that realization, Hiccup groaned and very much wanted to bang his head against something and scream. He opted for the mattress by the foot of the bed, but it turns out even cushion and cloth is as hard as a rock when time stilled.

"Oww, ow, ohhh you've  _got_  to be kidding me…" he moaned in pain. He sent a baleful look to the woman before him before resigning himself to  _her_  fate. "Man…to think she has to put up with this every day…" He allowed himself one last sigh and one last lament before sealing  _their_ fates. "Well, if this keeps the story moving forward…" Hiccup gulped as he straightened himself. " _Will that be all_?"

And just like that, those haunting eyes were on Hiccup, a harsh, "You are dismissed," slithering past Lady Tremaine's lips.

.

When Jack arrived at the palace after an…impromptu detour, he was ushered to a grand room (a waiting room, he duly noted) that led to closed door which rattled from time to time with raised voices and startled stuttering from the occupants inside. Now, the scenery was nice and everything, what with the fancy castle and the pretty courtyard visible from the arching windows, but he was a bit more worried about the possible murder that could be taking place on the other side of that door.

The King glared at his companion squarely in the eye. "Look, the boy's coming home today, isn't he?"

The Grand Duke breathed an exasperated sigh. "Yes, sire."

A scheming chuckle resounded through the royal parlor. "Well, what could be more natural than a ball to celebrate his return?" the King reasoned.

"Nothing, sire," the lanky man agreed half-heartedly.

"And if all the eligible maidens in my kingdom just, uh," he loosed another chortle,  _"happen_  to be there, why, he's bound to show interest in one of them, isn't he?  _Isn't he_?" the plump royal demanded.

The nobleman gulped, taking note of just how very aggressive the man just became. "Y-y-yes, sire."

"The moment he does— Ha-ha!" The King could picture it now: "Soft lights, romantic music, all the trimmings! It can't possibly fail, can it?"

"Y-y-yes si—N-No sire." The Grand Duke shook his head in resignation. "Very well, sire. I shall arrange the ball for—"

"Tonight," the King proclaimed with finality.

" _Tonight_!" the Grand Duke started. "Oh but, sire—"

" _Tonight_!" the King repeated with underlying hostility. "And see that every eligible maid is there.  _Understand_?"

There might've been a whimper of reluctance, but nonetheless, the noble's answer was: "Yes, Your Majesty."

Jack snickered but forced an air of nonchalance as he pulled away from the door his ear was previously pressed against and strode inside. "What about tonight?"

"S-son!" the chubby man sputtered. "You're early!"

' _Son?'_  At that, Jack paled; great, they were talking about  _him._ "I uh, yeah! We uhm…took a little  _detour_." He didn't mention the fact that after an hour or so of leisurely riding in the stifling carriage, Jack nimbly leaped out the window and took the reins himself, sometimes swerving off-road, but that was okay; the palace was  _huge_. He could see it miles away and the high towers served as a useful guide back "home" in his little adventure.

"W-well that's marvelous news!" The King gave a fatherly, if not forceful, clap on the teen's back. "We'll send out the invitations at once, celebrating your return!" He spun around quickly, hoping to conceal both his plot and his embarrassment.

Jack winced. "Sure thing!" He continued to grin until the man was out of sight. "Haha…yeah…" When he was out of an earshot, he shot the Grand Duke a dry look. "Old Man tryin' to set me up?"

The man nearly dropped his monocle. "W-why,  _Your Highness_! Your father is—is simply trying to…" he nonchalantly scouted the area and when he found no sign of the prickly royal, he nodded fervently.

Jack snorted. Oh well; if the green fairy was right about this, at least he might find his ticket back home tonight.

.

The sharp notes and flat tones wafted down to the foyer like an odious stench, each sour sound causing even Lucifer to wince with agony. The feline scampered down the stairs, not missing the dustpan near the last step, nor missing the opportunity to make some fun for himself and trouble for the despairing teen washing the floor.

It was miserable. Utterly miserable. "Oh ancients…" Hiccup rubbed his temples as the horrible noises started up again. "A herd of Gronckles after a limestone buffet beats this…"* the teen grumbled, unsure how humans could even generate such an awful noise.

The song itself was perfectly fine…it was the fact that one girl's voice couldn't hold a note and the other girl couldn't play one fluidly. Not that…Hiccup really had any say. His voice wasn't good for the more masculine and bellicose chants that boasted of honor, glory, and death that his tribesmen happily sung of. No, he preferred simpler tunes to pass his time at the forge. Nothing like the sword and axe-happy song of his mentor, but a more solemn melody to keep his focus. And without his notice, Hiccup lapsed into that nostalgic memory of metalwork and fire to keep the place warm, Toothless sunning himself close by and the teen immersed in his designs and perfecting his creations.

And a little song stumbled from his lips, as he focused on those times, losing his place in the present. " _Nyd_ _byþ nearu on breostan; weorþeþ hi þeah oft niþa bearnum to helpe and to hæle gehwæþre, gif hi his hlystaþ æror…_ "* He paused, lost in the reveries of flying sparks, the sound of metal hammers striking hot iron, of the occasional breeze that would cool his face, hinting of pine and ocean, and the busy bustle of the world around him while he was lost in song and in concentration. Maybe a little too lost. A tiny little paw print proved sufficient enough to cast his thoughts back to the present. Trance broken and with a glance around him, the first words to come out of Hiccup's mouth were, "What— _Lucifer_!"

The cat gave a mischievous smirk and sauntered away, leaving Hiccup alone in the foyer, the tiles around him covered in dusty cat-tracks. "Ugh…I was right to trust Toothless about you, you little demon." He gave a menacing glare towards the top of the stairs where the feline ran off to. He threw down the rag and started up the stairs. "Just you wait…"

Thankfully, or not, a knock on the door saved Lucifer from an uncharacteristic show of violence from the pacifistic teen.

"Open in the name of the King! An urgent message from his Imperial Majesty," called a voice in regal tones.

Hiccup sighed and sulked to the door. "Please say they've come for me…prison would be a much better alternative." With a twist of the knob and the rather formal parchment held out before him in reply to his sarcasm, the teen shook his head with defeat. "I guess not. Thanks anyways," he answered as he took the letter.

"From the king," breathed Jaq as he and Gus scurried out from hiding. "What's it say, Cinderelly?"

"Uh, uh, uh what's it say?" Gus repeated.

Hiccup gave an uninterested shrug. "Beats me, but the messenger said it's urgent," the teen replied, eyeing the imperial seal over the fold of the letter. "Maybe I should interrupt the, uh,  _music lesson_."

The teen knocked on the door, grateful that the sounds had stopped during his trek over there. There was some screaming and squabbling and after the dull thud of his knuckle on wood left his ears, there was an unpleasant bang of keys on the piano, but at least the dreadful singing had stopped.

Too bad it was replaced by Lady Tremaine's barking. "Yes! Cinderella I've warned you never to interrupt—"

"Yeah, but this just arrived from the King," Hiccup interjected with a wave of the parchment as he walked inside.

"From the King!" both sisters gasped in unison.

"Give it here!" Drizella demanded, snatching the letter from Hiccup's hand.

Anastasia scrabbled to steal it away. "Let me have it!"

Hiccup had to admit it was a little entertaining to watch the two awkward girls battle over a piece of paper. But it was stopped altogether when Lady Tremaine wrenched the note away from her squabbling daughters. "I'll read it," she sneered with a disapproving look. She tore open the letter and her callous eyes read over the message quickly. "Well! There's to be a ball."

"A  _ball_!" the sisters breathed.

"In honor of His Highness the Prince," the Lady elucidated.

The two young women looked at each other with giddiness. "The  _Prince_!"

Contrasting from this expected behavior, Hiccup groaned. "Oh not again…"

"And by royal command every eligible maiden is to attend," the stepmother clarified.

"Why, that's  _us_!" Drizella exclaimed.

"And I'm so eligible!" Anastasia crowed.

Well that was fine and dandy and all…but where did that leave Hiccup? Sure he was no "maiden," but as far as everyone else was concerned…he was. So the brunet disrupted the little fawning session with a dry, "…Does that mean  _I_  have to go too?"

The dark haired stepsister sneered. "Ha!  _Her_! Dancing with the  _Prince_!"

Anastasia took a deep bow, voice thick with bitterness and mockery. "I'd be  _honored_ , Your Highness! Would you mind holding my broom?" Both sisters cackled.

This couldn't have been better news for Hiccup. The teen gave a contented clap. "Great! It's decided then—I'm  _not_  going!"

He looked to Lady Tremaine for the final verdict before formulating his plans to get the hell out of this place while the ugly stepsisters and wicked stepmother were away for the night. Those plans promptly fell to pieces as the familiar frozen stare of cruel green eyes and the absolute silence that follow.

Hiccup groaned. "I—ugh what,  _really?!_ " He looked to the sisters, a repulsive expression stuck on their faces that made the whole situation even more disturbing. To no one in particular, but still hopeful that whoever this sadistic ass was could hear him, he groused, "All right, all right! I give! I'll… _try_  to go." And softly to himself accompanied by an eye-roll, he grumbled, "Emphasis on  _try_ …"

And just like that, the screeching laughs and overall chaotic ruckus was back while Hiccup watched the scene play out before him as time trudged forward. It was a little impressive and quite extraordinary to witness inanimate characters come to life…too bad it was  _these_ characters.

Hiccup had to swallow the bile as he said this with as little disgust as he possibly could. "Well, I  _am_  a member of this family, after all." And as an afterthought, ' _I think…'_

Lady Tremaine remained uncharacteristically agreeable after the proposition, and even more surprisingly, she nodded. "Yes, so it does. Well I see no reason why you can't go— if you get all your work done."

Well then; how was Hiccup supposed to argue with these turn of events? "Oh I will… _I promise,"_ he murmured, unconvinced and skeptical at the stepmother's show of "good will."

The woman waved him off with a disinterested look. "And if you can find something suitable to wear."

"Will do. And err…thanks," the teen curtly replied before making himself scarce and closing the door. Outside and leaning against the banister, the brunet fought the urge to scream. A female servant's attire? Pretty bad but could be stomached. Another gown? Hiccup was sure that the wicked tyrant responsible for this didn't like him one bit.

Within the room, both sisters were outraged. "Mother do you realize what you just said?" Drizella cried.

"Of  _course_ ," Lady Tremaine assured. She gave a short, cruel laugh. "I said ' _if._ '"

"Oh…' _if'!_ " her daughter repeated, echoing the same, malicious cackle.

.

Jack let out a low whistle. "Everyone sure is making a big deal out of this…"

It was the middle of the afternoon and already, the entire palace had been scrubbed clean from top to bottom, flowers arranged, hedges trimmed, and decorations, lights, and an overall atmosphere of affluence and fairy tale grandeur beginning to form.

Beside him, the same jumpy man that audience the King's scheme responded at once. "Why of course, Your Highness! To celebrate your big return from—"

"From  _where_  exactly?" Jack challenged with a raised brow.

The Grand Duke faltered. "From, erm…"

" _Right_ …" the Guardian drawled. It was a bit overwhelming and just a little bit amusing to watch his "father" and other palace staff scurry about to create the perfect ambiance of _amour_. Jack chuckled. "So, tell me,  _Grand Duke_ …suppose I find this 'girl' tonight…what would my  _father_  have me do?" It was  _highly_ unlikely that he'd meet  _the_   _one,_ but if the King was persistent enough, Jack may find himself the unwilling groom in an arranged marriage.

For the noble, the inquiry was highly unexpected and he almost broke his precious eyewear in reaction. "W-well…the best thing, I suppose is to c-court her, woo her heart, find within yourself if your love is pure and true—" he gazed off with a dreamy expression, only to be halted right on his tracks at the King crossly eyed him across the courtyard, as if sensing any form of impending ruin to his precious plans. "Err—and  _marry her_! Oh yes, yes,  _marry_  her right away!" the Grand Duke hastily amended.

The Guardian shot the man a bored look. "And if I  _don't_  meet her?"

"T-then…" The noble sighed and placed an understanding hand on Jack's shoulder. The Ice Spirit doubted he  _really_ understood, but it would be impolite to not let him continue. "If I might speak plainly, sir?" There was a worried look in his eyes that confirmed Jack's suspicions: the man thought he was in doubt or something.

"You may?" he hesitantly relented.

The man guided the teen away from the King's suspicious gaze; although the King may have his reasons, that did not justify the ruin of a young boy's chances of finding happiness. Though unsure how to go about this, the Grand Duke vowed to do his best. "Love is a—a wonderful thing, sire…you mustn't squander it away by the, ahem,  _wills_  of others…but it must come from your own heart." Jack knew he was giving the man a blank look, but the Grand Duke must have taken the confusion as romantic naiveté.

"You might realize it right away, but heaven knows miracles like those come so scarcely. Adding to that, many emotions may guise themselves as true love—treacherous, is it not?" He gave a weak chuckle and suddenly Jack wasn't looking at some stock character…but a man who might have lived his own heartbreaks and bliss from this one volatile emotion. Needless to say, the Ice Spirit didn't see that one coming at all. "But…" the older man continued, "you also must remember not to realize it too late." It was a strange warning. A solemn visage fell upon his face, just for a moment, and then it was gone like it had never been there in the first place.

Jack nodded, for some reason, the caveat echoing in his thoughts with a resounding gloom. "Really…"

"Yes, yes…" the man replied, a strange sort of wisdom reverberating in his words. "Love is frightening in that manner as well, for you see,  _regret_  is a deep wound that only time can remedy."

The Guardian hummed, mulling the information over; it was certainly full of holes and contradictions. "So…you're saying not to fall too quickly…and not to fall too late."

"Precisely!" the noble affirmed with enthusiasm.

"Tricky, tricky business…" Jack mused; after three hundred years, he was still no closer to solving that enigma than when he was a boy.

The Grand Duke gave a knowing smile. "Love is not as simple as, ahem,  _some_  have put it…"

.

Hiccup grumbled as he rummaged through the old trunk. It was bad enough he had to go through Cinderella's clothes (while feeling more than just a little  _wrong_  about snooping through a woman's closet), but now he had to find something suitable to wear in front of a Prince? Fate was definitely not on the brunet's side as each search came up dismal.

The mice were gathered around him and peering at the mysterious bundles hidden within the weathered box. He had found it hidden away with the help of Jaq and a few other friends; when Hiccup grasped something silky from the contents, he was a bit hopeful at this find. But as the teen pulled it out, he couldn't help but grimace. "Well isn't that—lovely…"

Jaq eyed it for a moment before eloquently remarking, "But dress old."

Hiccup snorted; that wasn't the only thing wrong with it. "Yeah, but you heard her…I have to find something suitable to wear."

Besides, it didn't  _look_  old…it just had a different style than what the stepsisters were wearing. And…it was an  _okay_  dress. Sure frills weren't his thing and neither was  _pink_ , and the ribbons and ruffles were a bit too much, and the sleeves could go and the skirt definitely needed to be altered—but Hiccup couldn't help but feel a little fond of it. As mortifying as that was. And for some reason, that strange tug in his chest he felt when he looked at the rumpled lump of cloth reminded him of his little stuffed dragon, probably sitting in his room right now by his bed at Berk. The teen wondered what the connection was.

"I think…" he started and drifted off, as though mesmerized by the soft texture and the girlish embellishments of the dress. And just then a memory, a faint one of a beautiful lady with crystal blue eyes and a loving smile, filled his mind. "It used to belong…"

"Cinderelly?" Perla, of the little lady mice, called.

And with that, he forced the thought out of his head, just a little bit disoriented when thinking just how that image got there in the first place. "Sorry…it's just…this dress made me feel a bit nostalgic just now…" Hiccup delicately fitted the dress over the mannequin, still wondering who that woman was.

He could have considered that odd feeling a little bit more if it weren't for the twin calls of " _Cinderella_!  _Cinderella_!" disturbing the small reprieve he was allowed.

"Augh…now what do they want?" The teen sighed and prepared for another delightful encounter with the demands of the ladies of the house. He took one last glance at the strangely frilly dress and shrugged. "Eh…I'll fix it up later." He stepped over the curious mice and headed to the door, mindful of a still-sleeping Toothless he smuggled into the house not too long ago, curled up on the bed.

Jaq stared at the spot Hiccup once stood, even after the door closed when the teen left in annoyance. "Poor Cinderelly. Every time she finds a minute that's time when they begin it." The little mouse plopped down on a ball of yarn, despondently continuing. "Yeah. Keep-a busy." To Gus, he gave a sad frown. "You know what? Cinderelly's not going to the ball." At the heartbreaking gasps around him from the other mice, he shrugged. "You'll see they fix her. Work, work, work. She'll never get her dress done."

Gus stared sadly at the dress. "P-poor Cinderelly…"

In a sudden burst of inspiration, Perla looked to her friends with a wide smile and a bright idea. "Hey!  _We_  can do it!" The other mice looked to her in wonder and as the idea caught on, the lady and gentlemen mice and birds gathered around happily in the room, excitedly dragging cloth, needles, and thread from the box. "We can do it, we can do it! We can help our Cinderelly! We can make the dress so pretty!"

A team of them hefted a book from the trunk and flipped through the pages of the tailoring patterns in search for a design while the rest began to snip and sew.

With delighted grins, the animals sang, "There's nothing to it, really!"

.

Hiccup sighed, exhausted and feeling grimy all over. He leaned against the windowpane, thankful for the cool night air. An initial glance at the stars drew his eyes to the glimmering lights of the kingdom, leading his thoughts astray. "Oh well, what's a royal ball?" he muttered. He sniffed, feeling oddly disappointed. "…Better not be my ticket out of here, that's for sure…" he joked heartlessly. But that only made the emptiness grow bitter.

Hiccup had never been to a ball per se…but he had accompanied his father on a few occasions between neighboring tribes and allies. There were feasts, yes, and a bit of dancing and storytelling within the grand halls, but they were never very fun and dreadfully boring and a tad hazardous when you were the tiny runt of all the tribe's heirs. No, he'd rather not attend to be scrutinized…or worse yet: ignored. But it was a funny thing…this mounting ache in his heart. It throbbed as though all his dreams were fading away into nothing but stardust, grains too fine for his hands to catch, glittering like dying embers that his eyes can't help but watch helplessly as they slipped through his fingers. It ached like that.

Hiccup groaned. "What's happening to me?" Because the last time he felt like that was nearly two years ago—before Toothless, before the Dragon Academy, before the Dragon Flight Club—before he was _useful_. Before when he kept trying and trying but his dreams were always out of his reach; when all that greeted him were taunts and jeers and silence—the silence was the worst of it because he was  _alone,_ always  _alone_ ; when harsh words and stigmas defined him, each syllable a blade marring his flesh for others to see…and those marks never did fade.

But it was a funny thing…miracles. He always knew striking a Night Fury down from the skies would change his destiny…but not in the way he imagined it. He earned this happiness, didn't he? More than that, it  _cost_ him; the proof was what was missing each step he took, but as a testament to his own inner strength, something more was gained with every flight, every jog, leap, and dance—

But why did that all seem so irrelevant now?

Hiccup sighed, the sound carried by the night air into the distance to the dazzling beams of elation and wonder from the palace walls. And right then, Hiccup couldn't help but wonder how many nights had passed that Cinderella would look to those lights and dream beyond what she could reach, to find one moment of happiness, purely her own to cherish and keep her going through the toil and heartache. "I hope she never stops dreaming…" Because a woman like her…she deserved to at least hold on to them, didn't she?

"Surprise! Surprise! Surprise!" the mice chorused, startling Hiccup from his pensive and depressing state.

Gus celebrated unthinkingly with a hearty, "D-d-duh uh, duh happy birthday!"

"No, no, no, no," Jaq chided to his chubby friend.

He smiled wanly, eyes on the little assembly of mice and birds; at the end of the day, at the very least, Cinderella had some very good friends. "Oh…you guys shouldn't have…" And then he eyed the little surprise in the closet and blanched at the sight of the dress. "You really shouldn't have." Well…it was an improvement at least. Although, Hiccup had to reiterate: pink was  _never_ his color.

.

Lady Tremaine assessed her daughters and internally sighed; well, this was as good as they were going to get. "Now remember, when you're presented to His Highness be sure—"

"Wait, hold on!" Hiccup stumbled at the stairs; Mary Janes on the right foot and a prosthetic on the left, topped off with a frilly pink and white dress blinding him to where his feet were going made for a highly unbalanced and dangerous (to himself more than others) Hiccup. "I-I'm ready!" he panted as he finally reached the bottom of the steps without stumbling over and killing himself.

"Cinderella, you wouldn't!" Drizella protested.

Anastasia grabbed Lady Tremaine by the sleeve and begged, "Mother she can't! No!"

The woman shook her off and commanded silence with a single glare. "Girls, please. After all we did make a bargain, didn't we Cinderella?" The Lady nodded and Hiccup felt his blood run cold. She inspected the teen's garb, eyeing him with cold malice. "And I never go back on my word."

She reached her hand out to Hiccup's slender neck and the teen feared for his life at that moment. "Hmmm. How very clever." Her fingers lifted the teal necklace that the mice  _swore_  was just laying there, unused. The brunet gulped as Lady Tremaine began speaking once more. "These beads, they give it just the right touch, don't you think so  _Drizella_?"

The stepsister huffed and "No I don't! I think she—" But when she took a closer look, the woman gasped out in contempt and disbelief. "Why you little  _thief_! They're my beads! Give them here!"

Hiccup barely had time to blink before Drizella reached in and broke the beads right from his neck.

"Oh and look! That's my sash!" There was a harsh tug on the dress followed by a sharp rip as Anastasia destroyed the delicate work of Cinderella's friends and the gown of Cinderella's mother. "Wearing my sash! She can't! You wicked—"

"This is  _mine_!"

"And  _my_  ribbon!"

"Why you  _thief_!"

" _Kitchen wench!_ "

"Oh you  _ungrateful_  little—!"

"Girls, girls!" With a cruel smirk, Lady Tremaine turned and sauntered to the door. "That's quite enough. Hurry along now both of you. I won't have you upsetting yourselves." She took one last glance at Hiccup, a heartless glare from her eyes at the sight of the boy, flesh red and bruised, dress torn and irreparable; from the look in his eyes, the same could be said of the boy's spirit. Her smile widened as she closed the door. "Good night…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About Hiccup's prosthetic…it's still there. The stepfamily has either yet to notice it or don't want to acknowledge it. After all in the past, people with physical disabilities were not to be associated with.
> 
> Cinderella originally named Gus "Octavius." "Magnus" was the name Gobber gave to a newborn girl when he was helping Stoick out with his duties as chief in Riders of Berk. Neither parent was very pleased with the name.
> 
> *=Christianity was not unknown to Vikings and was often mixed with their own beliefs; Beowulf, which was mentioned in the HTTYD book series, mixed both Christianity and Nordic culture philosophy. I wouldn't be surprised if Hiccup knew a bit of Christianity, if only some key names.
> 
> *=Meatlug gets indigestion from limestone. Not quite sure if that applies to all Gronckles.
> 
> *= A line from the Anglo-Saxon Rune Poem. English translation: "Troubleis oppressive to the heart; yet often it proves a source of help and salvation to the children of men, to everyone who heeds it betimes." It was a part of believed to have been sung as a pneumonic device to help remember the runic alphabet, but there has been some dispute to its authenticity. This is something I can imagine a younger Hiccup singing when he was feeling down.
> 
> Also, there's a specific reason why that song's in Norse and not in English.
> 
> Toothless - He's supposed to be Bruno in the story, but instead of an old dog, he is a young dragon. In the book series, young dragons sleep heavily in an almost comatose state. Here, however, he is just prone to being very tired
> 
> -This movie is long omg ;;-


	3. So This is Love (?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Valerie Kreiss for sticking by me with this and offering her editing and suggestions. Again, sorry this took a while...
> 
> Chapter title: the song Cinderella sang as she danced with the Prince.
> 
> Warnings: Further divergence from the Walt Disney version.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but a laptop and certain plot elements.

It wasn't as though Hiccup hadn't felt worse. Being the village outcast for the first thirteen years of one's life granted him that sort of exclusive experience. But that's not to say that the faint pulses of dry humor eased away the ravenous and consuming heartbreak that threatened to blur his vision and create a sharp stinging in his eyes. It would be foolish to think that at all. In the back of his mind, he wondered just how utterly depraved one had to be to stoop that low, to take the slimmest chance for change, to literally hold one's happiness by the flimsiest thread, and just when it seemed as though it would hold—that single strand was snipped away through cutting callousness and wounding words.

Laughably, even Vikings were not so  _barbaric_.

There was a bitter almost-chuckle at that. Yes… _laughably_ …that explained the small trembles that shook his body as Hiccup walked blindly through the hall. Jaq, Gus, and Perla and the other mice stood by the stairs, aghast and devastated. Even Toothless had roused from his slumber, maybe from the commotion, maybe from the heart-wrenching distress of his partner stirring him from sleep's grip. For whatever reason, the dragon bleated softly by Hiccup's side at once with the other little creatures trailing behind. The boy took little notice of this, mind elsewhere and nowhere at all. One side of his conscious waged war with the other: half cluttered with confusion and despondency, the other crumbling with grief and bitterness.

But he walked on either way. A part of his mind told him that  _perhaps_ this was meant to happen, that it wasn't enough to simply  _dream_ for your wish to come true—and maybe, just  _maybe_ that was the lesson in all this. Maybe that's what h— _she_ had to learn in this.

(Because  _he_  learned that the hard way, didn't he?)

He had no idea where he was going and he was sure he hadn't even been to this part of the manor yet, but he let his heart be his guide…as broken and sunken as it was. It was ridiculous too.  _He_  didn't even want to go to the damn ball—

—but  _she_  did. She did with all her heart.

So it was maybe a little foolish too. But he let her heart guide him, through the doors and to a garden falling into disrepair. Mind exhausted and emotionally drained, Hiccup sighed in what little reprieve he was allowed at the sight of a stone bench beneath a solemn tree, heavy branches swaying with the night winds, almost tearfully, weeping with what could not be. The teen sat down and nearly collapsed; his eyes were fixated on the stars and he wondered why people wished on such things when the gaping and empty maw only glared back, silent, in return.

" _In dreams you will lose your heartaches_

_Whatever you wish for you keep…"_

Hiccup choked out a laugh. "So…was this what you wanted to tell me?" Though, it was quite hard to do with one part of his heart breaking; it came out sounding like a sob instead.

" _Have faith in your dreams and some day…"_

He returned the glare at the black canvas above him, little specks of glimmering white frustratingly and painfully out of reach. "That  _dreams_ —they weren't meant to come true?" Because  _yes_ , he knew that some were born victors, heroes, or villains, that some were born  _challengers_  to overtake and overcome, while some were born as  _challenges_  to be faced and defeated. And no matter what one wished…well, sometimes, it just wasn't in their hands.

" _Your rainbow will come smiling through…"_

"Gods,  _one night!_ That's all she wanted…" He bit his lip, quite aware that his frustration had given away to some very stubborn tears that refused to be silenced. "One night…one night away from all… _this_ ," he motioned haplessly to the ruined dress. Hiccup scoffed, the harsh sound worrying the dragon beside him.

" _No matter how your heart is grieving…"_

Unsure of what to do for his rider, the Night Fury laid his head down on the ripped fabric, nuzzling the teen's lap and whining softly. Hiccup stroked the smooth, black scales, but found little comfort in the familiar act. "She wanted it…with all her heart. But now look—"

" _If you keep on believing…"_

"There's nothing left…nothing left to believe in at all…" The brunet wiped away a bothersome tear, only to succeed in allowing more to trickle down his cheeks. His eyes were beginning to blur and lights and color started to meld together in his vision. This was stupid. He hadn't cried since he was little. But right now, feeling so small and lost and  _hopeless_ …well, it's not like anyone else was there to see him. Well, except for the mice, the birds, the mare, Toothless, and all the other friends he made that day.

"The dream that you wish will come true… _"_

Okay,  _now_ he just about had it. "WHERE IS THAT COMING FROM?!"

And just as he blurted that out in mind-muddled rage, a faint chuckle sounded beside him, "Nothing to believe in my dear? Oh now you don't really mean that."

It was a good thing Toothless was right there; the dragon didn't break his fall or anything when he landed on his butt from jumping in terror at the sight of the elderly woman beside him, but his friend did manage to steady him back on his feet. " _Wh_ —w-who are you?" And when the woman gave him a wan smile in reply, Hiccup thought it was very appropriate to ask: " _What_  are you?"

But instead, the blue-clad lady only gave him a patient smile and replied, "Answer the question, dear. It's only polite."

"I-I'm sorry…you caught me by surprise…" And Hiccup didn't exactly know why  _he_  was apologizing (after all, the woman nearly gave him a heart attack), but she at least didn't  _look_  dangerous. He gulped and, after debating with himself for a good five seconds, took a seat beside her. "Well, as you can probably tell…I'm not really big on the whole… _believing_  alone will get her—or I guess I should say  _my_ —dream anywhere." He slouched forward, resting his elbows on his lap, facing the woman with fatigue. "It never really worked." That's not to say that it didn't play a key role; there was no doubt about that. It was just that belief in oneself only came in second to  _I've got nothing left to lose._

But the woman seemed to be an optimist as she took his hand in hers and soothed his back. "Nonsense, child. If you'd lost all your faith, I couldn't be here. And here I am!" she exclaimed. With a softer smile, she wiped her thumb against Hiccup's cheek. "Oh, come now. Dry those tears. You can't go to the ball looking like that."

Grateful but wary at the sudden kindness from a stranger, Hiccup pulled away but gave the mysterious woman a wry grin. "Sorry, but in this? I don't think that's happening. Not unless you got yourself a pretty little ball gown and a carriage up your sleeves."

And now the woman was wearing a full-blown grin and for some reason that made Hiccup  _very_ nervous. " _Why_  it just so happens— _aha_!" She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a sliver of white and extended the faint strand to a long, thin line between her fingers. Hiccup wasn't entirely sure if he should be impressed, startled, or used it to it by now. "Smart thinking; I had almost forgotten that I had put it away!" the woman cheerily added.

Jaq gasped. "Look what she did!"

Gus nodded, echoing, "Uhm duh, duh how she do it?"

Hiccup groaned, recognizing that  _blasted_ object. "Oh gods, not another  _wand_ —"

"But of course I have a wand, silly thing," the woman chided with a hearty laugh. "I am your Fairy Godmother after all!"

"Fairy…Fairy what?" Okay,  _now_ things were getting a little bit more familiar with the last… _story_. But wouldn't that mean…"But you can't—" Hiccup started weakly. ' _That would mean…'_

The Fairy Godmother smiled and pulled herself up from her seat. "Of course I am! But we'll have to hurry because even miracles take a little time."

" _Miracles_ ," the brunet repeated flatly. Of course, an occasion like this would definitely call for one if he was ever going to get to that ball. But a  _fairy?_ '" _Another" fairy,'_ his mind supplied with unease.

Either ignoring the boy or misplacing his words due to age, the Fairy surveyed the garden. "Now let's see. Hmm. I'd say the first thing you need is a—a  _pumpkin_."

Hiccup blinked, repeating the words slowly. "A… _pumpkin_." Great. She was as batty as the other three.

"Hmm-hmmm. Now the magic words…" She hummed for a moment and Hiccup was quite ready to take cover at the unsure look that fell upon her face. The Fairy grinned brightly as the words came to her. "Uh— oh,  _Ahem_!" And with a wave of her wand…she began to sing.

" _Sala-gadoola-menchika-boo-la_

_Bibbidi-Bobbidi-boo_

_Put 'em together and what have you got?_

_Bibbidi-Bobbidi-boo!"_

And it really was magic—that was the only way Hiccup could describe it. Trickles of sparks swirled and swam in the night air, adrift on their own streamlets of luminescence that rivaled the gems scattered across the sky, surging from the very tip of the wand.

" _Sala-gadoola-menchika-boo-la_

_Bibbidi-Bobbidi-boo_

_It'll do magic believe it or not!_

_Bibbidi-Bobbidi-boo!"_

The streamlets snared a large pumpkin from the patch, easing it out from place like rousing an animal from slumber, hefting the vegetable afloat.

" _Now Sala-gadoola means_

_Menchika booleroo_

_But the thing-a a ma-bob that does the job_

_Is Bibbidi-Bobbidi-boo!"_

And now Hiccup really was sure that this lady meant serious business as the pumpkin ballooned in size while the stems and leaves curled and twisted to create wheels and a base for the coach to sit atop. It grew pearly and bright, the spell sinking into its very core, transforming it from the inside out.

" _Sala-gadoola-menchika-boo-la_

_Bibbidi-Bobbidi-boo!_

_Put 'em together and what have you got?_

_Bibbidi-Bobbidi_

_Bibbidi-Bobbidi_

_Bibbidi-Bobbidi-boo!"_

And just like that—it was done. Toothless gently nudged Hiccup out of his stupor, the brunet coughing slightly and set his jaw right back up to where it belonged. There it was: a coach. Sure the carriage looked very…pumpkin-esque, but Hiccup had to admit—it pulled off the strange elegance quite well.

The mice gasped from where they observed, gasping and chattering excitedly at the wonder and magic the Fairy was capable of.

"Oh lookee, lookee!"

"Isn't it wonderfee?"

"Isn't it, huh?"

Hiccup swallowed and looked at the kind-eyed Fairy Godmother. "It's…yeah…that's really…impressive…"

The woman, quite pleased with herself, surveyed her work with an appreciative eye. "Yes, isn't it? Now with an elegant coach like that, of course we'll simply have to have, uh..." And then her sights were set on Jaq and the others. "Oh, that's right!  _Mice_!"

"Mice," Hiccup started slowly before shrugging. "You know what, I'll just…trust you. You…seem to know what you're doing." He felt…just  _slightly_  bad as the troupe gasped and began to scurry away. Hiccup hoped that whatever the Fairy had in store…it would at least be painless for his poor friends.

"Oh, this is really nice. Why, we'll have a coach-and-four when we're through. Just a wave of my stick and to finish the trick,  _bibbidi, bobbidi, boo_!" The flow of magic led to a rather fast and fascinating transformation from rodent to stallion, but Hiccup was just thankful to find that they seemed unharmed from the process. That, however, contrasted with the bewildered and slightly concerned expression on the Fairy's face. "Gracious, what did I do? I was sure there were four of them. There should be one more..." Hiccup gave a subtle cough towards a grinning Lucifer with a quivering cup under his paw; the beast probably snuck in here during the…surprise visit. The Fairy sighed in relief. "There you are _! Bibbidi, bobbidi, boo_!"

What resulted was nothing short of vengeance for a transformed Gus and a heart-stopping moment of terror for the feline.

Hiccup watched with a bit of guilty pleasure at the sight of the little beast running for its life.  _Still_ …"Hmph. Serves the little demon right."

The Fairy nodded in agreement. "I second that, dear." She inspected her creations and took inventory for what else was needed for the night. "Now, um, where were we? Oh, goodness yes. You can't go to the ball without a—a horse!"

"Another one?" the teen inquired;  _now_ he was starting to question this as the Fairy waved her wand over the mare, the transformation taking place without noted objection.

"But tonight for a change you'll handle the reins and sit in the driver's seat too. For instead of a horse you're the coachman of course!  _Bibbidi, bobbidi, boo_!" The Fairy smiled, satisfied at the clever switch. The mare, now in the driver's seat, was quite pleased with the turnout as well.

"But why couldn't the horse—" Hiccup stopped himself right there; even he knew some things were better off not questioned. Plus, one should never look a gift horse in the mouth anyways. "You know what…forget it."

The woman hummed in delight. "Well, that does it. I guess except for— Oh yes the finishing touch! And that's  _you_ ," indicating to the brunet's direction. Hiccup nodded, readying himself for what was to come. Though, he was a bit unprepared for the next words to come out of her mouth: "Yes  _Bruno,_  that's right!"

The brunet sighed. " _Toothless_ ," Hiccup corrected before he paled. "Oh no, Toothless—!"

"You'll be a footman tonight!" The Fairy cast the spell, not even blinking as Hiccup threw himself over his best friend; not even the streamlets and trickles of light seemed to mind his rather feeble intervention as it swerved, swirled, and averted him altogether. The Night Fury gave an indignant whine as the glimmering lights lifted him from the ground. " _Bibbidi, bobbidi, boo_!"

And in a similar fashion with the other transformed creatures, the process was utterly fascinating and worrying at the same time. Hiccup really didn't know how to react with what stood in front of him: a young human boy dressed in formal garb with toxic green eyes staring back at him with curiosity. There was a moment of stunned silence as it took the brunet about a minute or so to absorb what had just happened. When he did, Hiccup gulped in hesitancy before Toothless gave him the same awkward grin Hiccup knew all too well. Well, that at least didn't change. "Hey, bud," the brunet greeted, pausing before ruffling the head of jet-black hair. The child leaned into his touch, almost purring in delight. "That's a good look for ya," the brunet noted mildly. Toothless didn't say anything in return, but the happy gleam in his eyes reassured the teen that he was all right.

The Fairy opened the door to the coach, beaming with approval. "Well, well hop in, my dear. We can't waste time!"

And while he would have loved to see if he could have Toothless verbally communicate with him (learning Dragonese was still a bit of a difficult development for the young Viking), Hiccup looked to his dress, still ruined and still very much inappropriate for a formal ball. "Uh, unless this is a new fashion statement…" the teen began, but was promptly cut short.

"Oh, now, now, don't try to thank me," the Fairy insisted.

"Erm, I wasn't—well, I  _was_  of course, I mean this is all amazing, but…can't you do something about… _this_?" the brunet gestured.

The woman nodded vigorously. "Yes, you're  _lovely_  dear— _good heavens_   _child_!" As grateful as Hiccup was for her services, there was no stopping the eye-rolling that commenced. "You can't go in  _that_ ," the Fairy gasped. Again, there was a sardonic little nod from the brunet as she took a closer look, inspecting the teen from his frame to his face. "Now, uh, let's see dear. Your size and the shade of your eyes… Mm-Hmmm. Something simple, but daring too. Oh! Just leave it to me," she trilled excitedly. "What a gown this will be!  _Bibbidi, bobbidi, Bibbidi, bobbidi, Bibbidi, bobbidi, boo_!"

This time, Hiccup was a bit too late to try and brace himself; but what he expected as a burst of light instead appeared as a glimmering veil that melted away what hatred and malice had ruined to something beautiful and untainted—something pure and true, reflected by the luminous shade that seemed to glimmer and shine in the moonlight.

And…as embarrassing as it was, he was entranced by it, the elegance captured in the silken material, the confidence in such a gown, lovely and innocent, yet refined and regal. "It's…like a dream," Hiccup breathed, enthralled by the magic around him, how a night of disaster and despair transformed into a moment of promise.

And then he took a step forward.

The teen frowned and lifted the dress, high enough to see that even his shoes were given a little bit of a touch-up. He then proceeded to deadpan. "Or…you know…any one-legged guy's nightmare." The boy sighed and lowered his leg, experimentally testing his weight on it. "A single glass slipper, huh," he muttered as he eyed the beaming Fairy. Reluctantly, even Hiccup had to admit: "Well, it beats pink."

And now everything was ready, a phenomenon built from haphazard designs, fickle fate, or a meticulous destiny that prodded every step the brunet took to this final moment. And it was  _surreal_  and just as he was beginning to tire of that word, his mind was beginning to grow extremely weary of these moments of clarity that would soon fade out in favor of the neat little chaos of what laid before him and what he was supposed to do. But in this moment, where he suddenly realized that he was in a dress and about to go gallivanting off to Thor-knows-where in a pumpkin-carriage drawn by mice-horses with a former stallion taking the reins, and a Night Fury as a footman, it pretty much makes one think for just a moment to place his situation in perspective.

"Hang on, wait!" The Fairy blinked and gave the boy a bemused look as he staggered awkwardly to her. "Really, thank you for all… _this_ ," the brunet started, wincing at the awkward feel of the fragile footwear, but he was honest as he said that; she was the first kind human(oid) he had encountered in this small stretch of eternity. But he had to put things in priority right now before he was swept away again. He felt like he was losing his mind and that above all  _terrified_ him. "But I have to ask you—you do know…I'm  _not_  who everyone thinks I am… _right_?" He gave her a desperate look, knowing that the next few words to come from her mouth could make  _his_  wish come true.

He swore he actually heard his hopes splinter at the sight of her bewildered smile. "Well, no one will tonight, dear." She patted his cheeks in a grandmotherly fashion, seemingly unaware of his inner-turmoil. "Now run along! The ball awaits you!"

"Hold on!" And miraculously (perhaps this night was full of them), she looked at him— _actually looked at him_ —and waited as he continued. "Please…you have magic, don't you?" The Fairy gave a hesitant nod at the fraught look in the boy's eyes. And it wasn't like she could deny it; the evidence was currently adding an extra silver and poufy five to ten pounds on him. "If there's anything you can do—any way to get me out of this…I need to know." Hiccup didn't like to beg; he knew begging never worked, but it was one of those things so innate that there really was no helping it. "The other fairies, they—"

"Magic I may be…but not everything can be solved with a wave of a wand," the woman said. Something in her eyes erased the light and cheery nature altogether for one frightening moment. But a second came and passed, and that bizarre, foreboding air she exuded dissipated altogether. She smiled fondly at the boy and Hiccup knew then and there that it'd be no use. "Sometimes, to have what you desire, you must be willing to waltz right in there and take it!" After all, transforming a dragon into a human or a pumpkin into a carriage…what sort of power is that compared to this mess Hiccup somehow landed in? There was a warm hand cupping his cheek, the boy's eyes reluctantly meeting with the kind, warm gaze of the Fairy. "The answers you seek lie beyond those walls…trust this heart," she advised, gesturing to the fluttering cadence in his chest, elated in this one chance, this one dream. "You'll find that it's not so different from your own." The woman gave him a smile, covert and brimming with what could be possibilities or emptiness. "And when the time comes…your happiness will be granted as well."

Hiccup gave her a wry grin. "Time?" The boy was fairly sure that no amount of that would he ever find happiness while wearing a dress.

"Oh, oh yes!  _Time_!" Her eyes lit up at the reminder, consoling and comforting exchange broken. "Oh, now, now, now just a moment. You must understand, my dear. On the stroke of twelve the spell will be broken and everything will be as it was before," she informed with urgency.

"So there's an expiration date to magic as well…" Hiccup hummed. That was something to take note of. He nodded and felt just a little bit more grateful towards the woman. "I…understand. Thank you."

"Bless you my child. I—  _Goodness me_! It's getting late!" There was a light scuffle that followed, involving the brunet being stuffed into a carriage while nearly tripping over his own foot (minding the glass slipper). When the carriage door slammed shut and before the horses galloped off, the Fairy waved goodbye, cheering, "Hurry up dear! The ball can't wait! Have a good time! Dance! Be gay! Now off you go—you're on your way!  _With a bibbidi-bobbidi bibbidi, bobbidi bibbidi-bobbidi-boo_!"

.

"The Princess, Federica Eugenie de la Fontaine. Mademoiselle Augustine Dubois, the daughter of General Pierre Dubois," the herald announced.

' _God, this is hell…'_ Jack braved another forced grin as the next batch of nobles crowded around and presented  _yet another_ lady in a seemingly endless throng of excitable, giddy, power-lusting females.

That is, of course, unfair to say that  _all_  the women there that night were after royal titles…some wanted romance  _on the side_.

The cynicism of the long night wasn't just affecting Jack. The King sat back in his throne, overlooking the entire scene with distaste and impatience from the balcony. "Bah! The boy isn't cooperating," he groused. The Grand Duke beside him nodded with just a hint of complacency behind the agreement.

Now it wasn't that Jack  _typically_ displayed this sort of behavior…but it would be much more understandable with the supplied information that the herald had been calling out names since the beginning of the night and Jack had to do nothing but stand there and greet the lovely (and the not-so) maidens, one after the other, after the other, after the other, and  _after the other_. And…your eye tends to wander during these times when the herald was busy pronouncing  _each_  title and  _every_  name belonging to a single person (who needs more than a first, middle, and last name?), and you see things like busy-body mothers dictating every step her daughter makes, whispers and stares and giggles that watched his every move and all this reminded Jack that  _sometimes_ , being invisible wasn't so bad. And from someone who lived more than three hundred years of that—yes, his situation had hit rock bottom some time ago. And really, it was  _so_  tiring. ' _If I have to smile and bow at one more stuffy, leery-eyed, august name—'_ following that train of thought, Jack committed something of a sin in the King's eyes: he yawned.

The royal was fit to burst. "I can't understand it! There must be at least one who'd make a suitable mother!" At the Freudian slip, he stammered before shakily correcting, "– erm, _wife_ , yes. I meant wife."

Smugness brought to the forefront, the Grand Duke chuckled. "Well, if I may say so, Your Majesty, I  _did_  try to warn you, but you, Sire, are incurably romantic." The man took another triumphant laugh at the fuming King, nonchalantly wiping the smudges off his monocle. "No doubt you saw the whole pretty picture in detail: The young prince bowing to the assembly. Suddenly he stops." And just as he spoke those very words, Jack did so as if by command, captivated by a siren-song off in the distance. "He looks up, for there she stands: the girl of his dreams!" The King watched with rapt attention as the Grand Duke narrated the very scene before his eyes, the Prince weaving through the crowd to meet a mysterious woman shrouded in elegance and moonlight. "Who she is or whence she came, he knows not, nor does he care. For his heart tells him that here, here is the maid predestined to be his bride!" The man scoffed. "A pretty plot for fairy tales, Sire, but in real life, oh no. No, ho-ho-ho. It was foredoomed to failure," the noble taunted.

" _Failure_ , eh?" the King demanded as he pulled the Grand Duke towards the sight. "Ha-ha! Take a look at  _that_ , you pompous windbag!" And to the Grand Duke's utter (embarrassment) astonishment, there the Prince was—the scene taken straight out of the very romances he had parodied not ten seconds ago, towards the silhouette of a fair maiden bathed in the shades of the night. "Who is she? Do you know her?" the royal asked.

The Grand Duke shook his head. "No, Sire. I've never seen her before."

"That's one thing in her favor," the man chortled with excitement. He gave a harsh whisper commanding, "The waltz! Quick! The waltz! Lights!"

.

Destiny was indeed mysterious; the crone atop her wheel of Fate cackled at the misfortune and misgivings she wrought, the cycles turning clockwise and counter, callous eyes alight with amusement at the outcome, a guiltless gamble on her part. And lives met in fiery collisions, the snares of love and fortune tangled hopelessly, souls bound to one another in complete disregard of what stood in between—selfishness it was. But that mattered not to her as she threw her head back and crowed with laughter.

At least, that's how Hiccup envisioned it as he deadpanned. "Ugh… _you_?  _Again_?" In all honesty, he was more surprised that he was surprised by the situation's turnout.

The frosty-haired boy rolled his eyes, though the beginnings of a grin started to form on his lips. "Hello to you too,  _princess_." Of course he had recognized the boy the moment he saw him; even in near-darkness with only moonbeams casting their pallid light, there was no mistaking it...because oddly enough, throughout this entire night, his face was the only one his brain saw worth taking a second glance at.

"Oh yeah, ' _princess'_ — _real_  charming," Hiccup muttered.

And the guy had the gall to  _smirk_ … "That's  _Prince_  Charming to you," Jack corrected.

Yes, while Hiccup was hoping to find his answers tonight, he also expected for Cinderella to finally realize her dream; as with most "dreams" lately, they had this rather annoying connection with the other boy. And what was more, there also seemed to be a surplus of moments of him in dresses involved… Hiccup gave a noisy sigh. "Of course, you get to play the little royal while I get to play the little housekeeper." And yes…he was rather bitter about that part as well. Last time, he was cursed by a witch to die; now he was cursed as a thrall for three witches and their cat.

Why was it that every time they met, the little fishbone always seemed to be in a bad mood? "Woah, woah, no need to get prickly, Cinderella."* Still, Jack reasoned that it was at least a small consolation that he wasn't alone in this…and he could set the record straight with the other.

The brunet shot him a bland look. "Hey, when was the last time  _you_  had to wash twenty-five windo— _how did you know that_?"

"Huh?" Jack blinked as Hiccup warily backed away from him. Really, he needed to work on his "first impressions" with the guy. It felt a bit like calming down a frightened animal as he gingerly approached the brunet. "Know what?"

"My—err,  _her_  name!  _Cinderella_!" And for Hiccup this kept getting weirder and weirder...and that was saying a lot considering his run-in with his "Fairy Godmother"…and the talking mice.

It took perhaps five seconds for Jack to register what the other boy was saying, three seconds to second-guess the other's words, another three to realize that  _yes_ , the seriously freaked out and suspicious looks the brunet were throwing him were in fact quite genuine, and two more to catch on what was happening. "Oh my god…" And he looked closely at the dress and (somehow) paled further. "You—you're serious?" And he thought again of the  _ball_ , the  _scene_ , and the  _circumstance_. "You're seriously Cinderella?" Despite it all, it was still quite hard to believe.

Hiccup gave him an odd look. "Yeah, I thought I already established— _why did it suddenly get darker_?" Jack groaned as the brunet cautiously scanned the area, starting as the orchestra began its waltz. "The music—what's going on?" It was just then that Hiccup realized it had grown  _immensely_  quiet the moment Jack once again joined this madness. The brunet took a peek at the ballroom and swallowed at the sight. "And…why are people looking at us?" Because it was  _that_  unnerving to find so many eyes aimed directly, not at  _him_ , but at  _them_  like they were…

The Guardian sighed and stepped closer to Hiccup, his voice saturated with resignation. "They're green with envy that the belle of the ball has stolen the heart of the prince." He then gave a reluctant and curt bow.

The brunet nearly sputtered. " _What_?"

"Just to make it clear—you're  _the_ Cinderella, right?" After a befuddled and hesitant nod, Jack got quite uncomfortably close and placed a hand on Hiccup's shoulder and murmured, "Okay, then. For now, just follow my lead," and the other hand on the small of the brunet's back.

In retrospect, the latter probably wasn't such a good idea. Especially with how Hiccup squirmed out of the strange hold in quick, uneasy movements. " _What_? Okay, I've had enough of taking orders without any answers so there is no way I'm doing that without a proper—"

And the music stopped. And well…so did everything else. Hiccup bemoaned his fate while the frosty-haired boy took a hesitant look back, quite ready to be embarrassed that the little  _princess_ quite blatantly "rejected" him. But instead of aghast expressions, wide eyes, slack-jawed mouths, and scandalized reactions, he was met with...something rather unexpected.

It was quite a sight for Jack*, seeing the same unmemorable faces staring blankly back, an eerie soulless glaze over their frozen faces; it reminded him of wax dolls…and those never failed to creep him out. Now even more so with a palace filled with halted movements or melody, seemingly the entire  _world_  devoid of motion, devoid of sound, devoid of life. Neither light nor shadow flickered, the sheer emptiness resounding uncomfortably with chilling consequence.

Jack gulped, very unnerved and very concerned. "Woah, okay, I don't remember this part of the story."

"Gods…" Hiccup muttered and Jack had to be grateful, once again, that he wasn't alone in this. Even if the other was more than just a little disagreeable. "Okay, okay… _fine_ ," Hiccup conceded and threw a glare at the evening sky; Jack had to snap out of his stupor after the other boy grabbed his hands and awkwardly put them back in the "appropriate" position. And just like that, the scene seemed to breathe a sigh and time marched on. The Guardian gave him a questioning look; Hiccup made a small noise of irritation and conceded. "It's been doing this all day…if I make some kind of 'wrong' choice, everything just stops until I roll over and do what the…'story' wants me to do…"

It was hard to believe, but after that demonstration, it was harder to deny. "Sounds both convenient and inconvenient." And Hiccup had to agree, to an extent; Jack was right in that aspect. It was a rather useful tactic for dictating one's actions… The frost-haired teen hummed in thought, idly swaying the two of them back and forth in a semi-dance. "C'mon, place your hand over here…" He guided the other's unsure hands to his shoulder and with the other hand, grasped the brunet's shaky fingers. Jack mulled over the information when it suddenly struck him: "Haven't you heard of this fairy tale?" Judging from the younger's reaction to his knowledge of the iconic fairy tale, it definitely seemed to be.

"Here…?" Still very much uncertain, Hiccup just rested his hand near the other's clavicle. It was definitely uncomfortable with them being so close. He peered into those icy blue eyes further betrayed his tentativeness with a dubious, "What do you mean?"

And for Jack, this was awkward as well. He gave a sigh and tried not to sound too helpless as he muttered, "Okay…I'm a bit unsure, so bear with me…" So began the waltz: "All right, one-two-thre- _ee—_ " Jack winced as something quite heavy and decidedly  _solid_  knocked against his tibia. He could almost feel the bone rattle. Lovely.

"Sorry…" Hiccup cringed and felt a twinge of sympathy after the stumble. He had used the prosthetic to knock out a grown man before after all. But hey, it wasn't his fault the guy started moving without telling him anything. Plus there was also the little tidbit of: "But you haven't answered my question."

"Hiccup, right?" A slight nod was given. "Well Hiccup…this is a fairy tale: Cinderella— and really, I can't believe you've never heard of it! I mean it's— _oww, ow_!"

"Sorry! Sorry, geez…" Hiccup sighed. "I'm not exactly used to… _this,_ " he muttered, eyeing the movement of their feet. He frowned. "What is  _this_?"

Okay, now Jack  _knew_ there was something wrong with this kid. Unless of course that was a jab at their pitiful attempts in the dance. "It's called ' _waltzing_ ,'" the older boy drawled, but felt just slightly bad and a little bit pained at the guilty look on the other's face as Hiccup once again managed to step on Jack's toes. "And…well, I haven't exactly  _done_  this either, so don't worry—it's not  _entirely_ your fault."

Hiccup had worked in the forge ever since he was little—well,  _littler_. So he knew ninety pounds resting on iron to the feet were probably going to leave quite a few marks. "Erm…you sure we should keep going?"

Jack gave a shrug, ignoring the throbbing ache of his legs. "My gut says that if we stop, everything else will too." He had caught a glimpse of the bizarre prosthetic in their last meeting and he  _knew_  the thing looked painful…he just didn't think he'd be on the hurting end. "But yeah, my forming bruises say that  _maybe_  we should continue this conversation somewhere more… _private_?" He barely held back a whimper at a rather  _forceful_  kick to his shins. " _Oww_!"

" _What are you suggesting_!?" the brunet hissed, vainly wriggling out of Jack's hold.

It took quite a bit to make the Embodiment of Winter blush, but this boy proved to be quite the exception to that. " _Nothing_! Geez, get your mind out of the gutter…" Jack grumbled. "Despite what happened last time, I am  _not_ —"

" _Where do you think you're putting that hand_?" It was a neat little contradiction Jack had just performed, especially when he had inadvertently lowered the apparently offending appendage in trying to tighten his grip to an area that sent off warning signs to the young Viking. So in his panic, who else was there to catch the flailing maiden than the dashing Prince?

Which, of course, made the situation a whole lot worse.

"I'm just trying to lead!" Jack argued, face very close to the other boy, the waltz feeling a bit more like tap-dancing with how he tried to avoid swift kicks from the other boy.

The Viking very nearly thrashed. "Don't hiss in my ear!"

"Don't kick me with your iron foot!" he countered.

"Oh, this foot is good for more than just  _kicking_ ," the brunet warned.

"Just—augh…calm down…" And those words did have a rather strange effect on the younger teen. Because he looked to be quietly seething once more. Probably to avoid another mishap with their dear, sadistic friend, Time. Whatever it was, this kid  _really_  didn't like the feeling of being trapped. Jack gave a little bit more distance between them and steadied their positions. "Okay, follow my lead. Then we can talk about this  _properly_." He took three calming breaths and was quite pleased to see the younger teen do the same. "Okay, now count with me now…one-two-three, one-two-three…" His eyes watered and though he bit his lip to stop the noise from escaping, the pain proved itself too formidable. " _Oww_!"

"Sorry." But Hiccup wasn't, really.

.

From the ballroom, the crowd silently marveled at the stunning pair, a sight to behold as the Prince swept the mysterious girl to a dance, delicate and intimate, bashful and coquet, auspicious and fated all at once. Some sighed in defeat and yearning, others for the love of romance, and quite a few in envy at the emotions they shared as they looked into each other's eyes with mute passion.

"Who is she, Mother?" Anastasia asked, as curious as all the other maidens of the kingdom.

Drizella frowned as she took another glance at the beautiful young lady in the moonlight. "Do we know her?"

Her sister huffed, feeling more than just a little put off by the obvious air of magic between the waltzing pair. "Well the prince certainly seems to. But I know I've never seen her."

The woman stood by her daughters, mood soured and plans sullied. "Nor I. But she certainly is— _Wait_!" The Lady narrowed her eyes, catching a glimpse of the girl's face. "There is something familiar about her…" But she knew it was impossible. It was impossible because she  _made_ it impossible. But the doubt was there, whispering, insisting, goading, and warning for her to take another look—come closer and see exactly  _why_  this girl seemed so familiar.

Fortunately, those of higher command seemed to have other ideas as a certain noble drew a curtain over the veranda's opening, blocking the pair from sight, and leaving the Stepmother with nothing but an eye-full of red and a surprised "Oh!" fleeing from her mouth.

Grand Duke gave the woman a polite, "Ahem," indicating that love was in the works and there was to be no interruptions until further notice.

.

The stars gleamed with an iridescent light, painting the skies in pallets of inky blues, gaping black, and endless nonsensical patterns of glimmering wishes breathed into the night air. The moon hung in the heavens, casting its faint glow across the garden, a soft and loving touch sweeping across the plane. The roses were in bloom, joined by the budding narcissus, while morning glories furled their petals in slumber, scattered all around like constellations reflecting the garden above. It was quite a display, an abundant and over-romanticized bouquet of flowers and foliage sweeping through the lush grass in the muted tones of the night, making for a lovely scene.

"Wow…this place is amazing…"Hiccup took in the sight around him, distractedly mirroring Jack's movements.

The other boy chuckled. "Yup…took a whole afternoon just to set up the atmosphere." Hiccup listened to the sound, intertwining with the soft symphony floating from the palace walls and drifting across the evening. It was surprisingly pleasant when it wasn't aimed at him.

The brunet lifted his head and caught the other's gaze, a weird feeling dropping in his stomach. And a warmth. A weird warmth was there too, creeping into his cheeks and an uneasiness settling into his chest. "It's…weird." His hand in Jack's tightened ever-so slightly and his words were breathed out before his mind had the chance to trap them. "My heart's beating really fast."

Jack gulped and wondered if Hiccup knew what he was saying right now. "R-really…" He also wondered if the other boy should be having that sort of effect on him as well. "Uhm…mine too…now that you've mentioned it." He was pretty sure this wasn't normal. All the other guy did was look at him, after all.

"I feel…happy. But…is it really me?" Because Hiccup was sure this wasn't normal—no, not normal at all because he was growing light-headed, slightly nauseous, overwhelmingly dizzy, his breathing came in short, pulsing bursts, and he felt absolutely… _happy_. And he  _knew_  this wasn't normal. "Gods…what is going on?"

"I think…we're in a fairy tale." Jack slowed their movements, dancing instead to the leisurely rhythm of the evening winds; it was a good thing this scene took place out in the garden…poor kid looked like he really needed a break. "Okay, let me test this out." He took a breath before shooting the brunet a sharp stare. "In the story of Cinderella, a girl is mistreated by her wicked stepmother and stepsisters and through the help of her Fairy Godmother—"

"Meets her prince and lives happily ever after?" the brunet drawled.

Jack raised a brow. "So you  _have_  heard of it?"

"No…just…speculating," Hiccup shrugged. "And let me guess…you think you're her prince?"

There was that damn smirk again. " _Yours_ , actually." Because it couldn't be a mere coincidence now.

"Perfect…just perfect." The brunet rolled his eyes, unsurprised by the snicker that followed. Everything the other said matched his situation perfectly and as impossible as it all was, the evidence was mounting steadily. "Well, what do we do? The last time this happened, nothing changed except the setting and characters." And indeed there they were; Jack as the Prince and well…if "Charming" had to be Cinderella's prince, that would make Hiccup the  _Princess_ , now wouldn't it? "We're still stuck in the same situation."

And Hiccup was right about that; they had followed the fairies' orders and played their part…wait— _fairies_! "Oh, that's right! The Fairy Godmother!" Jack paused; did this version even  _have_  one? "Did you ask your—er, her— Fairy Godmother?"

Though the brunet had to be grateful for her kindness, Hiccup couldn't help but scoff. "She was about as helpful as the last batch of fairies…" He could sympathize with the deflated look on the Jack's face; whoever they were dealing with, whoever had done this, they had gone to great lengths to ensure that they'd receive no help from within these tales. But still…they at least made for what sounded like fair advice. "She said that…I'd find my answers here. I'm guessing that's where you come in." Judging from the expectant look in Jack's eyes, the frosty-haired boy was pretty sure Hiccup was holding out on more information; the brunet sighed. "She also said that…my heart's not so different from hers—Cinderella that is." Feeling slightly humiliated for whatever reason, Hiccup cast his gaze to the side and finished with, "And that…once I realize that, I'll find what I want."

Jack shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by the cryptic words; after all, he had received something of that sort not too long ago. "Well, I'm not so sure about that part, but I'm at least a bit more familiar with this fairy tale than the last one." Though, thinking about it a bit more…"Actually…oh wait, so was that last one  _Sleeping_   _Beauty_?"

"Wait, you  _knew_  about that fairy tale?!"

"Well, sorta?" The older teen chuckled nervously at the irritated look the other shot him. "It's not like I knew which one it was! There are lots of tales with princesses in towers with dragons guarding over them!" He frowned at the very unconvinced glower he received. "And the details of Sleeping Beauty were a bit fuzzy; I'm no fairy tale aficionado." Because  _that_  version of the tale was a tad bit different from the one he heard a long time ago.

Again, Hiccup was not so convinced. "And how many of them have to be awakened by a kiss?"

"…I'm guessing quite a few?" Jack could at least name another one at the top of his head.

The brunet groaned. "Oh, that's just great..." He just hoped that wouldn't be his fate…trapped in some fable only to run into Jack  _each and every time._

But as the night grew quiet and as did the songs, the skies twinkled so perfectly, and there was an air of wonder and serenity that refused to be broken, it  _actually_ somewhat made sense. "So…this is a fairy tale," Jack repeated, maybe to reaffirm that fact to himself as well as to Hiccup.

"And every fairy tale has an end…" the brunet added; they didn't keep going, otherwise they would never be retold. At some point, they'd be faced with the possibility of going home—or the chance they'd be lured in another lore all over again.

Jack seemed to follow that very same train of thought. "But when that happens…will we end up in some different story?"

Words of wisdom surfaced from Hiccup's thoughts—the very ones that echoed of warning and calamity.  _"Do not deviate from the storyline…"_

" _You must play your part, line by line…"_  Jack followed.

And they were at a loss again. "Maybe…maybe the first time…we did something wrong," Hiccup reasoned. "Maybe that's why we're being forced to start all over." It was a shot in the dark at best, but it was all he had. With little evidence to analyze and relate to the circumstances, it would do for now. "After all, I was already awake when you came into the castle." And who knows? Maybe the time-freezes were an extra safety measure?

The Guardian hummed, steadying the tempo as Hiccup began to stray from the pace again. "So, you're suggesting that we do this right and maybe we might just get home?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking…I mean…whatever is causing this really wants me to play by the book." Hiccup gave a weak chuckle. "I guess talking back to dear old stepmom really wasn't a good idea for Cinderella…"

Jack gave an incredulous laugh and looked the brunet over. "Woah, you actually sassed that crazy old bat?"

"Erm, yes?" Hiccup raised a brow. "Why? Was it that bad?"

Jack scoffed. "She's…well,  _evil_. I mean, she named her cat  _Lucifer_." The Prince gave a disgusted little shiver; to think that very lady was at the ball tonight. "Ugh, she always did give me the creeps, no matter what version of this story I've heard." He eyed Hiccup's lithe form and guessed that bravery sometimes came in small packages. "That's actually quite impressive…" Or, you know, stupid; whichever one. Though he idly wondered what Hiccup would have actually done if the Lady actually retaliated.

Hiccup gave an indifferent shrug. "I've seen scarier."

And though Hiccup didn't voice it out loud, the testimony to that gave Jack bruises all over his leg. Unsure if it would be seen as an act of comfort or not, Jack gave his fingers a faint squeeze. "Same here; believe me." His thoughts didn't have to wander very far to that event that led to his Guardianship one year ago. But really, he'd rather not travel down that road right now. Jack instead gave an inelegant cough, curtailing the current path his thoughts were headed. "So, were the stepsisters really as mean as the story says?"

"They're annoying and heartless, yeah." There was a slight stab in his chest at the remembrance of the… "wardrobe" incident, but he shouldn't dwell on it now. "But really…they're just puppets to their mother's whims, acting on her anger." Even then, the act was of pure childishness and malice—never a good combination, but it's not like he would have the chance to fight back against it.

"Jealousy too," the frost-haired boy added.

Hiccup blinked. "Jealousy? Jealousy of what?"

There was another cough from the Guardian as he made some arbitrary hand gesture, pausing their waltz ever-so-slightly to do so. "Well…look at you."

Jack was getting used to being subjugated to that dry stare of his. "You just gestured to all of me."*Still, that didn't stop the other boy from accepting Jack's hand as they resumed their dance.

Not exactly the reaction he was going for. "Yeah, I mean, it's not every day a teenage boy in drag catches the prince's eye," the older teen retorted.

Hiccup raised a brow. "I'm sure something like that would catch anyone's eye." Reassessing the other's words, he then added, "And if that was supposed to be a compliment, it was poorly constructed."

Jack didn't seem to be fazed at all by the slight jab. In fact, he seemed rather amused. "Talk all you want, but you're still very pretty despite your ugly words."

Hiccup balked, stuttering mid-step. "I don't even know how to take that."

There was a smug chuckle that followed as the Guardian gave a light-hearted shrug. "It was a statement; take it as it is." He gave the little  _princess_  a twirl—or rather, attempted to do so, laughing as the guy tripped over his own feet at the sudden movement.

The brunet glared as Jack steadied their form once more, back again to closed position. "For such ugly words, you seem to enjoy them."

"Maybe that's because  _you_  seem to enjoy speaking them?" He gave the Viking a dubiously pleasant smile.

Hiccup raised a brow. "And why would that matter to you?"

"Because, despite your mouthiness," Jack started, minding his tongue by the flat stare he was receiving from the brunet, "You're a lot more relaxed…and surprisingly agreeable when you're allowed your little wordplay." The brunet hummed in agreement; he knew that as a fact at least. However, he was slightly more uneasy at how Jack suddenly wouldn't look him in the eye as he continued with, "Comes in handy when I have to tell you things you probably don't want to hear."

And that was  _definitely_ something Hiccup didn't want to hear. " _Like_?"

Jack cringed. "Well…for starters…we  _kinda_ …have to get married."

The brunet opened his mouth, but at that point there really was no proper response to something like that. He made a strangled sort of noise and was pretty sure that the face he was making at that moment was one of abject horror. " _That's_ —!" Oh yes, there was no real  _proper_  response, but given the situation, there was at least an indignant and appalled response he could give. But he looked to the other again and sucked in a breath. He felt slightly guilty at the sheepish look on his face. Right, well it wasn't exactly Jack's fault. He looked back to the boy, the boy in the same position he was in and the boy just as eager to get home, and sighed. "That's an awfully huge step to take after one night."

Jack kept his mouth shut; if this failed, he didn't exactly want to enlighten the brunet that  _all_  fairy tales ended like that. So instead, he continued on to say, "Beats tying the knot with any of those peacocks…" And…maybe he didn't quite think his words through before saying that out loud. He let out another dismissive cough before settling on another topic. "Besides, it's ' _love-at-first-sight'_. What are you gonna do?"

"Actually get to know that person first?" Hiccup offered, minding his prosthetic as it bumped against Jack's leg.

"True enough." The older teen slowed to a more leisurely tempo, still keeping time, but in more shuffling movements. They stayed like that for some time, waltzing to a tuneless song breathed from starry skies and bedtime romances. "Still…I guess some things are still meant to be," he murmured, somewhat lost and dazed to the magic mingling with the moonlight.

He swore his heart skipped a few beats when mystified green eyes met his. "You're still holding me."

It wasn't followed by narrowing eyes or dubious glances. The silence that followed wasn't exactly stifling or uncomfortable either. It was just a subtle realization, a faint outline beneath the haze of the enchanting atmosphere, the hesitancy in his thoughts contrasting with the natural flow of his actions. It was strange—but it did not feel so—that there was something underlying their fated encounter, something budding and blossoming with every beat to that silent melody. He knew what writers, poets, and bards would deem it. He just didn't want to freak Hiccup out by saying its name out loud. Not when Jack was sure that feeling wasn't theirs to begin with.

So the Guardian wouldn't concentrate on it now. "…and you talking usually prevents you from noticing things like that." He gave a chuckle as the younger teen shot him a bland look; neither of them pulled away or broke the clumsy rhythm. "Surprisingly enough…you haven't stepped on my feet or kicked me in a while," the Guardian noted not without a demeaning flake of praise added to his words.

The brunet rolled his eyes, metaphorically stomping on the urge to do just that on Jack's heavily-bruised foot. "I'm still surprised I haven't broken the glass shoe."

"Oh, right...How is wearing that thing anyways?" Jack was always curious about that little bit; why glass and how does anyone (including this guy right here) walk, let alone  _dance_  with one of those things on?

At that, Hiccup gave a sardonic laugh. "Uncomfortable and frightening; I've already lost one foot so I don't really wanna risk it with this one."

The brunet was almost touched at the look of concern that flitted across Jack's face. "You…okay?" Their movements almost halted right then, but Hiccup managed to urge their dance on.

"Huh? Oh yeah…it's just that…" And he trailed off; his feet weren't really aching. Well, okay, they were but only when Jack brought up the question. He hadn't really minded the alien ache…more important facets were in his mind about this moment. Like the little bit where his brain absentmindedly pointed out the fact that: "We're still swaying…" Hiccup was quite sure he reddened at the rather weak observation.

If that didn't make matters worse, Prince Charming decided to pull the startled brunet flush against him. "Shh. It's called slow-dancing."

A struggle right then  _probably_  would have ensued in some very unwanted results, so rather than fighting against the awkward, draining, tiring, but delighted feeling coursing through his veins, the Viking sighed."And…how long are we supposed to do this?" Hiccup refused to acknowledge the mere existence of that whine that came out of his mouth.

"'Til midnight?" Jack gave a nervous sort of laugh that he hoped didn't sound too choked; quick thinking and underdeveloped ideas led to this off position, but Jack was rather glad that at least like this, Hiccup couldn't see his flushed face.

"Oh. Right," the brunet grumbled.

And their waltz continued on.

.

"Well, there's that damn clock tower." Hiccup sighed and tore his eyes away from the glittering night sky and the magnificent scenery from the veranda; he wouldn't dare voice it out loud…but it was nice. Talking like this, that is. He looked to Jack and almost snickered at the transparent disappointment on his face; the guy was actually decent to talk to…Hiccup shrugged off the thought. "When Cinderella becomes queen, I'd understand if she wants that thing demolished."

The "Prince" smirked. "Plans for the future already?" With a hand on the younger teen's back, Jack guided him back towards the palace. It was amusing, mostly because Hiccup would hasten to get away from the strange touch.

The brunet huffed. "Of course; you basically proposed anyways," he pointedly remarked. He gave a grin and honestly noted, "Very unromantic by the way; you should work on it."

There was an expected laugh and Hiccup felt his face heat up ever so slightly; good to know his humor was well-appreciated. "Well, let's just hope we make it out of here before you're expected to pop out any heirs." Too bad Hiccup couldn't say the same about Jack's.

Was it even possible to blanch and blush at the same time? Hiccup shook his head with an agonizing groan. "Oh Gods,  _please_  don't even joke about that."

"Hah. If only," the Guardian snorted. "The old man set this whole thing up just for the grandkids." They were by the balcony now, where they had first seen each other; the curtain was still in place, no doubt for privacy…not that…theyreally needed it or anything. Jack coughed, and Hiccup wondered if the other was catching a cold or something. "You know, you're a lot more receptive to this whole idea…" Hiccup looked back to him and it suddenly occurred to Jack that it had been hours since the brunet had fought against or shown displeasure at his presence. "Of…well, you know, us." And whether Jack realized it or not, regardless of how Hiccup reacted, not once did his touch ever leave the young Viking.

"Well, I suppose we aren't strangers anymore." Hiccup shrugged as he offered Jack his most honest reply. "We're sort of accomplices now." The kind of honest reply he was most comfortable giving anyways.

The Prince accepted it with dry concurrence. "True enough."

Hiccup stared back at the curtain, the commotion and chaos kept at bay, separating their little tale from the rest of the world. And with how the moon gleamed and stars twinkled and the night air sang softly in their ears as they slowly waltzed through the evening in clumsy steps and loud banter or during the more entrancing interludes of the night where the talking stopped altogether and it was only the small, trepid little steps of an unfocused dance in time with their heartbeats…it was all enough to know that for Cinderella, she had found what she was looking for. Hiccup hoped that sooner than later, he'd find his as well.

There was another resounding  _BONG_ , tiny little trembles sending goosebumps across his skin; Hiccup tried to ignore it. He was getting better at that. "Well, time to get going," he attempted to say with resolution…but he didn't dare turn around to face Jack. Because that feeling was back again and it settled there, heavily in his chest, aching in tempo with the beat of his heart; it was ridiculous to his rational mind. Jack had promised to meet him again because wasn't that how all fairy tales went? But it was a bittersweet ache that gripped him so, because for Cinderella, even if her Prince was only hers for a night, she told herself that it was enough. "It…was err…nice meeting you again?"

The brunet took a chance and was greeted with warm blue eyes and a grin, half-hearted and half-reluctant. "Hah. Likewise. Would've been better under different circumstances, though."

And with all these confusing emotions and conflicting thoughts roiling and colliding in his mind like natural disasters, Hiccup couldn't help but agree. "Definitely."

.

"Mademoiselle! Just a moment!" the Grand Duke gasped as he flailed after the agile woman as she nimbly raced down the stairs. "Guards! Guards!" he rasped, his voice drowned out by the thunderous boom of the clock tower.

Amid the ruckus something glittered in the palace lights, left in the lady's wake as she hastened to the entrance without ever looking back.

"Stop the coach!" the man barked. "Close those gates!" But was already too late.

She slipped into the night, as mysterious as she came, she went without another word. The Grand Duke gave a heavy sigh. He descended the steps to where the object laid and gingerly plucked it from its spot. The glass slipper glimmered in elegant clarity, yet obscure in its purpose.

.

For Hiccup, the ride back to the chateau was…interesting to say the least; he knew he said that prison would have been a better alternative, but that didn't exactly mean he was grateful for the attempt at incarceration displayed back there. Pumpkin-carriage a pumpkin once more and his little friends back to their original forms, Hiccup couldn't help but sigh in both relief and wistfulness. Still, it was good that they made it out safe and sound. Honestly, what was someone supposed to think with all those guards sent after him?  _That_ would have scared any potential lovers away.

The brunet was pulled from his thoughts as Toothless, a hatchling once more, crooned into his torn skirt with a fatigued melody. He gave the dragon an affectionate scratch under his chin and grinned when the reptile went boneless under his touch. "Ah…sorry, bud. Kinda lost track of time." He frowned at the lost opportunity, but Toothless would always be Toothless to him—no matter what form. "He gave an affectionate pat to the slumbering dragon and turned to the rest of his little entourage. "You're all pretty tired, huh?"

He knew he should've felt just a little bad for making them wait…and for making them speed out of the castle grounds like fugitives with a bounty over their heads, but judging from their happy faces, the night was well worth it.

Quietly to himself, Hiccup admitted, "It…wasn't…as bad as I thought it was." And it really wasn't; Jack proved himself to be…an  _okay_  guy. Mostly okay. It was still weird how the other guy refused to let no more than three feet come between them. But it was still nice.  _He_  was still sort of nice. And he wasn't just saying that because his heart (or was it Cinderella's?) jumped at the recent memory. Nope, definitely not. Hiccup allowed that thought to disperse altogether and cast his gaze towards the beaming lights of the castle. He smiled, but despite the absurdity of it all, "I hope…I hope she had a nice time," he confessed.

"Cinderelly, look, look, look! No slipper!" Hiccup was wrenched from his thoughts as Jaq animatedly pointed to his bare right foot.

After a second of inspection, Gus echoed, "Yeah, no slipper!"

Oh, so that's why he was able to get away so quickly. "Huh… I guess it must've slipped off while I was running…" He rubbed the reddened skin and aching bones, wincing as he came to this conclusion: he was not meant to wear heels. "Ugh, honestly, that's possibly the worst thing you could do to a guy with only one foot," he groused. He wondered what kind of women would subject themselves to this type of discomfort—all in the name of what? Oh…that's right.

Honestly. The things people did for love.

.

Jack guessed he shouldn't have been too shocked at the scene before him: his supposed "father," once again outraged, at the Grand Duke; what he didn't expect to see was the portly man swinging around a rather formidable sword around, gleaming blade thirsty for blood.

Jack cringed as the royal bellowed, " _SABOTAGE_! You were in league with the prince all along!"

Grand Duke ducked and dodged for cover, desperately trying to get the man to see reason. "I tried to stop her b-b-but she vanished into thin air!"

" _A LIKELY STORY_!" the man howled, ornate sword aimed with deadly fury at the poor noble.

Grand Duke scurried out of the weapon's range, crying out, "But it's true, Sire! All we could find was this glass slipper!" He feebly held out the glittering object, hoping that such a precious piece of evidence would protect him from the royal's wrath.

Blinded and deafened with fury, the King snatched the slipper from the Duke's offending hands and zeroed in for the killing blow. " _THE WHOLE THING WAS A PLOT_!"

And Jack supposed right now would be a good time to stop before there was a bloody mess to clean up; he never considered Cinderella to be a sinister tale and he wasn't about to start right now. "No!" The Grand Duke breathed a noticeable sigh of relief as the King fumbled with the sword in a moot attempt to hide it from his son. "I…I mean…it's true, father. H- _She_  stole my heart and fled into the night. I haven't been able to find her." Man, it was weird calling referring to Hiccup as a 'she.' It was a bit difficult to say that out loud, but for this tale to go according to plan and for both of them to have their shot at getting home, Jack adorned a resolute expression over his face as he said, "But I won't rest until I do." And when the royal seemed just the tiniest bit unmoved, Jack swallowed the awkwardness that came with saying the next few words: "Father…I plan to marry hi— _her._ "

"M- _marry_?" the royal gasped.

Even the Grand Duke was astounded at his confession. "'Marry', Your Highness?"

Jack coughed, awkwardly, hoping that his red face conveyed sincerity more than any more apparent discomfiture. "Yes," he affirmed. And just for the extra dramatic flair, he added with a bit more force: "I love her."

Tantrum placated, the King bounced up in glee. "Then that settles it!" He shoved the fragile footwear into the noble's hands. "You'll try this on every maid in my kingdom! And if the shoe fits, bring her in!"

Jack gawked. "What?"

"S-sire?" the noble squeaked, questioning the man's sanity once more.

"Well, we certainly don't know her name or where she lives, and the only clue we have of her is this shoe," the man reasoned.

"But Sire, it could fit any number of girls in the kingdom!" the Duke argued.

"Yeah! And despite what he— _she_  may tell you later on, I am  _not_  delusional! I don't need a shoe to find her! I think I would recognize who I was dancing with the whole night!" Jack countered.

The King gave a delighted nod. "Excellent! Then  _you_  can join the Grand Duke as he visits each and every maiden to confirm from the likely candidates of who fits this shoe!" With a great degree of difficulty, he gave a forceful and happy clap to his son's shoulder. "The wedding will commence once you do!" With a jaunty stride, the King walked off from his bedroom and down the hall, not caring that he would be seen by all the palace staff in his nightdress. "My son's getting  _married_!" the joyous cry echoed.

'"Each and every'…" Jack paled; the herald wasn't even finished with a  _quarter_ of the list of women at the ball before Hiccup showed up and saved him. He looked at the slipper in the Duke's hands and gulped. He gave a sheepish grin to the noble and slowly backed away. "…now did I say  _marry_?" he laughed with a certain amount of fear.

The Grand Duke gave a weary sigh at the Prince but the stern look in his eyes told Jack that if the man had to suffer to find Jack  _his_  bride, then Jack would too.

Besides, wasn't that what love was about?

.

After last night's turn of events and the sudden reversal of fortune that came this morning, Lady Tremaine was in no mood for any sort of error to further exacerbate her mounting anxiety levels. "Cinderella! _Cinderella_!? Oh where is that—"

"Yeah?" Hiccup sighed, decked once more in his servant's attire; though he had to admit, at least the shoe was much more comfortable. He stepped through the doorway, finding it hard to keep the boredom and ire from his voice. "What is it?"

"Oh my daughters! Where are they?" she demanded.

Hiccup had to note the possessive pronoun in there. ' _My_ daughters. _'_ Because Cinderella was definitely not one of them. The brunet shrugged. "Probably sleeping."

The Lady huffed and gave a sneer at the Viking as though it were his fault. "Oh, well don't just stand there! Bring up the breakfast trays at once. And hurry!"

Jaq watched from the corner, away from the woman's gaze as the Lady strode to bedrooms. "Wonder what's the matter…"

"Uh, duh, what's the matter with her?" Gus parroted.

The lead mouse shook his head. "I don't know. Let's find out. Come on."

It wasn't hard to locate the Stepmother as angry and urgent calls of "Drizella!  _Drizella_!" floated down the halls.

The brunette stepsister yawned as she lazily roused from slumber. "Whaaat?" she inelegantly groaned.

"Get up! Quick! This instant! We haven't a moment to lose!" the Lady commanded. The young woman only watched with sleepy confusion as her normally cold and stoic mother fussed about, leaving her room towards the next door.

The redheaded sister wasn't safe from this strange display of frenetic behavior either. "Anastasia? Anastasia! Get up! Anastasia!" After a second of silence from her daughter, the Lady quietly seethed. With an irritated frown, the woman drew the curtains to flood in the morning light.

Anastasia winced at the intruding flash of radiance as she turned over and buried her head in her pillow. "Huh?  _Ohhh_  what for? Why?"

"Oh, everyone's talking about it— the whole kingdom!" the Lady exclaimed; the girls should have been very worried or very excited at this point. This behavior was certainly unbecoming of their mother. "Oh hurry now! He'll be here any minute!" the woman urged.

Drizella, who had followed her mother out of worry but was subsequently overwhelmed by her dire need to continue to sleep, settled beside her sister on the mattress. "Who will?" she asked, purely out of respect for her dear old mother…and due to the fact that if the Lady kept talking, she might end up taking a few more seconds of precious rest.

"The Grand Duke," Lady Tremaine elaborated. "He's been hunting all night."

"Hunting?" Anastasia grumbled, befuddlement written across her slurred and sleepy voice.

The Stepmother sighed and forced out the explanation in a way that she hoped her daughters would understand. "For that  _girl_ , the one who lost her slipper at the ball last night," she grounded out. "They say he's  _madly_  in love with her."

Hiccup just so happened to walk in that very moment, starting at the news; so he  _was_  being hounded down like a fugitive.

Drizella's head popped out of the pillow. "The Duke is?" At that, Hiccup paled; he  _really_ hoped there wasn't some other noble chasing after him…no, one irritating, frosty-haired boy was enough.

"No, no, no the  _Prince_!" the Stepmother hissed.

Hiccup choked. "The  _Prince_?" And sure, on the outside, he was quite  _surprised_  by the news of the kingdom's prince smitten after just a night of meeting with a fair and mysterious lady, but on the  _inside_  there was a terrible little rant in his head that screamed in mortification, ' _Oh Gods, he had to say it like_ that!? _'_  Because…even if it  _was_ a lie, that was a  _huge_ and  _horrendous_  lie if Hiccup had ever heard one.  _Madly in lo—_ who says their 'madly in love' after one meeting?!

There was the sound of porcelain breaking and Hiccup suddenly found his hands empty; funny…he was sure he was holding something earlier. The Lady of the house shot him a chilling glare. "You clumsy little fool! Clean that up. Then help my daughters dress."

"What for?" Drizella grumbled, settling back into the comfortable covers.

"If he's in love with that girl why should we even bother?" Anastasia added, joining her sister.

"Now you two listen to me!" their mother hissed, wrenching the covers away. "There is still a chance that one of you can get him." Her words echoed darkly, a ploy forming in her calculating mind.

The two sisters looked to one another, the smallest trickles of hope intertwining among the tangles of puzzlement. "Huh? One of us? Why Mother, what do you mean?"

"Just this: no one, not even the Prince, knows who that girl is."

Hiccup scoffed; right. Of  _course_  no one would know who that  _girl_  is. Especially since  _he_  wasn't even a girl. Still…how insulting. An entire night of dancing and the guy refusing to let go of him and he couldn't even bother to find out where she lived? Of course…he couldn't really blame Jack (though he kind of wanted to) since according to the frosty-haired boy, this was all part of the storyline. No, he supposed that ire should be aimed towards Prince Charming, so easily swept away by love at first sight that he forgot that the first sight eventually gives away and passes by like another moment in time…

No, falling in love was easy…staying in love and loving someone—that was hard. But still, Hiccup had to hand it to him…the man was at least ambitious. And quite forward.

At the mention of the night's adventures and the new information regarding a rather familiar mystery-woman, Gus proudly proclaimed, "We do! We do! Cinderelly! Cinderell—" Thankfully, Jaq closed his mouth in time, just as the Lady of the house turned their way.

Lady Tremaine glared at the bright morn, refusing to let her dream die; this was her daughters' last chance as well as hers. "The glass slipper is their only clue. Now the Duke has been ordered to try it on every girl in the kingdom. And if one can be found whom the slipper fits, then, by King's command that girl shall be the prince's bride."

"Using a shoe…to find," the brunet bit his lip, is silently chuckling at the absurdity of it all. "His  _bride_?" He was right…Jack was delusional.

"His  _bride_!" the sister gasped.

"Cinderella! Get my things!" Drizella barked, scrambling out of the bed.

Anastasia followed after her, shoving a pile of dresses into Hiccup's empty hands. "Never mind her! Mend these right away!"

"Not until she irons my dress!" the brunette demanded.

And really—it  _was_  funny in a way. Funny and just a tad bit pathetic. A man can't bother to remember his future bride's face and yet entrusts a shoe that could fit  _any_  number of women in this kingdom…to guide his way to her. Hiccup snickered. Yes, ambitious as the Prince was, this plan had far too many holes for him to appreciate. Sure a shoe could prove to be more honest than any number of females willing to outright lie and parade about living said lie for the rest of their life all in the name of power and wealth…but  _really_? A  _shoe_? Hiccup should have lost his prosthetic; that would have definitely made things a lot easier for the poor noble entrusted with this task. And at that thought, his shoulders began to tremble and the slightest sounds of amusement danced past his lips.

A little more than miffed at the offending sound from her stepsister, Anastasia frowned. "What's the matter with her?"

Drizella scowled. "Wake up, stupid!"

"We've got to get dressed!" the redhead insisted.

"Oh yeah…right. Sorry, excuse me for a second…" He shook his head and, in pondering the irrationality of the situation, handed back the cluster of clothes to a bewildered sister— _again_  he never really bothered to learn their name—and stalked off, not knowing he had unintentionally laughed right in Drizella's face.

"Mother! Did you see what she did?"

"Are you going to let her walk—"

" _Quiet_!" the Lady hissed. Chilling green eyes narrowed as the boy walked off, faintly muttering to himself and  _laughing_ , the noise itself like a sickening melody, a little waltz of missteps that flourished despite her precautions and  _years_  of teaching the little brat her place. And  _she_  would not ruin all those lessons in discipline she had so kindly instilled upon her  _step_ daughter. Without another word, the Lady stepped out of the bedroom, eyes still trained on the brunet as he took the wing to his chambers.

She trailed after the boy, moving quietly among the shadows, ears picking up tidbits of self-musings. "Gods…my  _shoe_? He's out there trying to find me through my  _shoe_?"

It could have been fear; it could have been fear that trickled down her veins, fear that all had been for naught just because that little  _thorn_  in her side had decided to once again bloom to noxious belladonnas, ruining and tainting the future she had so painstakingly built for her two daughters. No,  _this time_ …this time the little tramp was  _not_  snaring their futures and happiness away.

Especially  _hers._

"Ridiculous…that's the last time I ' _leave it to_   _him'_  to find me again…" Hiccup groused as he passed through the threshold to Cinderella's room.

The mice crept by, casting worried glances at the Lady. "What's she gonna do?" Gus murmured as the woman walked ever-so-silently behind their brunet friend.

Jaq felt that same panic build, but if he gave away their position right now, it would mean trouble for all three of them. "Shhh. I don't know. Gotta watch her. Come on!" he rushed, tiny feet carrying him towards the doorway.

Their eyes widened not a second later. "Cinderelly, Cinderelly!" the mice frantically called, watching with horror as Lady Tremaine drew a key from her pocket and walked grimly to the door.

"Why didn't he just let me tell him the address again?" Hiccup rambled. He sighed, seeming to convince his reflection on the dresser. "Oh right…he wanted this done  _the right way_ …Well I guess I should wait for the dashing prince…or whatever I should do."

"Look out! Look out! Behind you! Behind you!" they cried.

By the time the voices reached his ears and an impulsive "What?" fled from his mouth, he caught it just then—a glimpse of the sneering face behind his reflection and if he almost didn't have a heart attack upon seeing it, the thundering crash of the door would have nearly sufficed as well. Thankfully, Hiccup knew very well how to force a scream down with irony. "Oh—what,  _seriously?_ " He strode to the door and beat his fists against the wood. "Okay Lady, you've got some  _serious_  issues here," he gave a frustrated kick to the door, grumbling with exasperation as the wood rattled, but the hinges stayed bolted. "You can't just lock me up and think that something like this is enough to get one of your creepy daughters engaged!" He gave another knock, a fair amount of desperation seeping into his words. "I know you can hear me! He  _will_  know it's not them! The Prince is  _not_  as stupid as he looks!" And then Hiccup had to pause and rethink that for a second due to the whole "shoe" thing; the brunet sighed and murmured to himself, "At least…I  _hope_  so."

.

A mother always placed her children above herself; that what being a mother was about. To see her children thrive in the world, to see them in happiness and success…and perhaps to reap the benefits in their old age and live comfortably as well. But being a mother meant  _sacrifices_ and learning patience, to love her children above all else and to do her absolute best for their interest. Above all, Lady Tremaine  _was_ a mother and just like any mother, she'd do  _anything_  to ensure at least one daughter's happiness.

But again…the benefits aren't bad either.

The Lady gave a stern frown at her excitable girls; as awkward as they were, they were her own and she'd be  _damned_ if she didn't have her way. " _Girls_! Now remember. This is your last chance.  _Don't_  fail me." Because yes…this was for  _their_ benefit above all else.

She opened the door, the Royal Postman coming through, to regally declare, "Announcing His Imperial Grace, the Grand Duke." The aforementioned man, though looking quite less graceful and imperial, strode into the manor, his lack of sleep still unable to overshadow some of that noble air.

"You honor our humble home," the Lady greeted with a curtsy.

"Ahem, quite so," the man replied with little enthusiasm, a natural product of little sleep and little direction to go about this messy situation…plus, a  _certain_  passenger proved too stubborn to come along to each house. Well…after the first fiasco that resulted from his presence, it certainly proved to be quite challenging, but still!—it was  _his_  future bride on the line so the least that future monarch could do was—

"May I present my daughters, Drizella... and Anastasia." The Duke shook off his initial startle at the sudden reminder of his task at hand. The Lady graciously directed him to two of the most ungracious women he had ever seen.

"Your Grace," Anastasia bowed, fluttering her eyelashes coquettishly. Though, on her it looked quite disturbing.

Grand Duke gulped and tried not to seem too…disturbed. "Oh yes. Charmed I'm sure," the man muttered.

The Royal Postman, by now quite versed in his role, formally addressed, "His Grace will read the royal proclamation."

What the noble wouldn't give to sigh; the urge to resist such offending behavior was crumbling. "Ahem," he started, hand unrolling the official parchment, "All loyal subjects of His Imperial Majesty are hereby notified by royal proclamation in regard to a certain glass," and really…it was too early in the morning to start their little trek across the kingdom and he had been to  _so_ many houses and saw some of the most  _horrible_ set of feet imaginable. So forgive the man for yawning as the fatigue began to overwhelm him. "Slipper. It is upon this day decreed—"

Drizella interrupted him with a glad shout of, "Why, that's  _my_  slipper!"

Anastasia, not to be outdone, angrily countered, "I-It's my slipper!"

And Gus, not to be outdone by either lies, squeaked out, "No, no, no! Cinderelly's slipper! Cinderell—" Again, Jaq managed to stop his chatty friend just in time.

Drizella huffed. "How can she stand there and deliberately say things like that?" she cried with an indignant jab at her younger sister.

"Girls, girls! Your manners!" the Lady chided. Though in retrospect, that might've been a conniving idea, it was poorly executed and would have to be remedied quickly in order for the Duke to be convinced that one of her daughters is the woman he's looking for. "A thousand pardons, Your Grace. Please continue."

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, though it certainly wasn't the first time he'd heard  _that_ little outburst before, he continued. "Yes quite so. Uh, uh, oh yes. It is upon this day decreed that a quest be instituted throughout the length and breadth of our domain the sole and express purpose of said quest to be as follows to wit. That every single maiden in our beloved kingdom without privilege or exception shall try upon her foot this aforementioned slipper of glass and should one be found upon whose foot said slipper shall properly fit—"And amid the droning and the official terms and conditions, Jaq and Gus quietly slipped into the scene, trying to pick the key from the Stepmother's pocket. "—such maiden shall be acclaimed the object of this search and immediately forthwith shall be looked upon as the one and only true love of His Royal Highness, our beloved son and heir…"

Oh dear, was that a  _yawn_ that just slipped out of his mouth? Stifling the reflex, the Duke continued, "The noble prince. Said noble prince will humbly and upon bended knee beg request or if need be implore said maiden that they may grant her hand in marriage. Whereupon, should the aforementioned maiden look with favor upon his suit then shall the happy couple pledge their troth yawning and in due course upon the inevitable demise of His Most Gracious and August Majesty, the King succeed to the throne to rule over all the land as King and Queen of our beloved kingdom," he paused for a breath and closed the document. "And, so be it."

And somehow, through the official speech, Gus managed to find himself within a teacup, looking quite fearfully at a piping-hot kettle raised above him. "You must be quite fatigued, Your Grace. May we offer you some tea?"

"Hmmm? What? Eh, tea?" The little mouse picked up the breathy yawn that followed and prayed the end would be quick. "Thank you Madam, no. Uh. We must proceed with the, uh, the fitting." Gus thanked the stars as the kettle was put away.

The Stepmother nodded. "Of course. Anastasia, dear," she beckoned.

The redhead sat down and lifted her foot for the servant to attire. Surprisingly—it appeared to fit! "There! I knew it was my slipper. Exactly my size. I always wear the same size. As soon as I saw it, I said—" Well… _appeared,_  and appearances can prove to be deceiving. After all, once the fringe of her dress slid down, it revealed the slipper dangling well below her heel. Anastasia gave a sheepish grin and a hasty, ill-formed explanation. "Oh well it may be a  _trifle_  loose today. You know how it is—dancing all night! The amount of heat and, and pressure is  _bound_  to cause the glass to erm…stretch just a bit! I can't understand why. It's always fit perfectly before!" And when even the servant didn't seem to believe her, she lashed out, "I don't think you're half trying. Mother, can you—"

"Shhh," her mother soothed. "Quiet, my dear. We mustn't disturb His Grace." Unsurprisingly, the noble succumbed to his sleep-deprivation and was slovenly snoring in his seat. That, at least, would buy her some time to think of some way to get that idiot royal betrothed to one of her daughters. "Young man, are you sure you're trying it on the right foot?" she asked patiently.

"Oh it's in the right foot but it must have shrunk or something. A glass shoe isn't always reliable," the woman babbled, providing just the right amount of chatter to distract her plotting mother as the daring duo of mice reached in and lifted the key from the woman's pocket.

Jaq breathed a sigh of relief but restrained himself. "Sh, sh, sh! Come on Gus-Gus. Hurry up the stairs. Up the stairs! Quick-quick!" The little rodents scurried away, hauled away their precious cargo towards the long and rigorous path. The metal was heavy, the mice were small, and the steps were plenty. But they'd do it. For their Cinderelly.

That, too, was love.

.

"Why can't you hold still a minute?" the redhead argued, looking quite ready to clobber the poor man out of frustration. Well…in fact, she did.

Which consequently roused the Grand Duke from fitful rest at the sight of disarray and unladylike character. "Oh my word! Enough of this!" He snatched the slipper from the woman's grasp, visibly relieved at the pristine condition the fragile glass still upheld. "The next young lady, please?" And as he said these words, the Duke  _prayed_  this torture would be over soon.

Upon hearing the man's words, Jaq doubled his efforts. "Hear that Gus? Hear that?"

"Yup," the robust mouse confirmed as they lifted the weighty metal through the manor's copious steps to the highest room; they hadn't a moment to lose.

"Quick, quick. Gotta hurry! Come on. Come on! Hurry!" the lead mouse urged. Because this was for Cinderelly, his best friend and the most wonderful person he had ever known; because she deserved this and she deserved to have more than just a chance of finding happiness. "Gus-Gus! Gus-Gus! Oh come on. Look, look. Just up there. Come on! Us a-coming Cinderelly! Us a-coming. Us can get you out!" She _deserved_  happiness.

.

"Toothless," Hiccup groaned, lifting the head of scaly black. "Toothless, c'mon bud…I know you're tired from last night but you gotta help me out…Bud? Bud, c'mon please…" He sighed when the worn dragon crooned for a moment, his eyes opening for just a hint of toxic green to appear before his best friend once again sunk back into the waves of dreams. Hiccup groaned in frustration; he knew that the transformation would take a lot out of Toothless—Major, the mare, had undergone the same lethargy when Hiccup fed him that morning—but  _really_?! Of all the times…the brunet sighed. Why…why must there always be such close calls? Fate seemed to give her sardonic reply as familiar squeaks and cries sounded from beyond the door. Hurrying to the blasted piece of wood, Hiccup made out the gist of the high-pitched commotion and flopped down in relief. "You've got the key? That's incredible! How did you guys pull it off?" From the keyhole, Hiccup spied his little saviors.

Gus hastened as he was passed the key to slide the key under the door "We-a comin' Cinderell—!" and his whole world went black.

Hiccup growled out in frustration at the familiar sight of that catty smile and the cup trapping his little friend beneath those pudgy paws. " _Lucifer_! Let him go! Lucifer, I'm warning you—this is the last straw! _Lucifer_!"

"Let him go! Let him out! Here, here, Lucifee!" Jaq cried, and even as he gathered the other mice and birds try to help, they were easily overpowered by the oversized feline.

Hiccup…really hated that cat. From the very beginning, he should've let Toothless— _oh, right_! "Bud!" Turning to the door, he called out, "Jaq, listen to me! Get the others out of there; I have an idea!" The groggy Night Fury perked an ear as Hiccup scurried to his side. "Toothless, c'mon…I know I said you couldn't before…" And Hiccup  _knew_ this was categorized in all sorts of wrongs, but if there was anything he knew about young dragons…it was that they were easily enticed by a great reward system. "But how about trying out cat meat?"

A single eye fluttered open and Hiccup could only hope Toothless didn't take that last part too seriously.

.

Drizella huffed as she failed to fit the slipper;  _big_  surprise there… "Oh of all the stupid little idiots! I'll do it myself! Get away from me! I'll  _make_  it fit!" In another display of some  _very_ unladylike behavior, she grabbed the slipper from the servant's hand and vainly tried to fill the gaps by spreading her toes. " _There_!" she cried, walking forward with great difficulty to keep the slipper on.

"It fits!" the Lady exclaimed.

"It  _fits_?" the Grand Duke gasped with horror. Proudly, the brunette strode forward—and in doing so, sent the slipper flying after a rather powerful swing of her leg. Sputtering in terror, the noble dove for the fragile glass, literally seeing his life flash before the reflective surface of the footwear.

Though sorely disappointed (yet again) and wistfully accepting, the Lady at least kept her air of dignity as she apologized. "Oh Your Grace, I'm dreadfully sorry…it shan't happen again." She knew that their last hope had failed yet again.

"Precisely Madam!" the noble huffed.

.

Dragon literally locked and loaded, Hiccup wasn't quite sure how powerful a young Night Fury's attack would be… but he hoped that it would at least be enough to knock down that door and give that little demon what he  _really_ deserved. "Okay…he's right through that door…Now, bud!  _Plasma blast_!"

What happened next was nothing short of a miniature explosion, a clumsy release of power and sheer pressure added to the blow, compressing the fire to that of its familiar violet form. It was rather fascinating for Hiccup to note that although Night Furies seemed to have more or less the same amount of damage behind their flames, they happened to lack the proper control…

Evident through the burning carnage of the hall around them.

But he really had no time for that; he fled down the stairs, not even bothering to look for any…cat-sized piles of ash lying about.

Jaq, eternally grateful that the teacup Lucifer had used to trap Gus was still intact, lifted the china and compelled to his friend, "Come on, come on! Get up, Gus-Gus! Get up!"

"No, no, no, no, no!" the larger mouse cried; he didn't know what happened earlier, but from the way the earth shook and the blood-curdling feline yowl, Gus was quite sure he  _didn't_  want to know what just happened.

Jaq shook his head and made a grab for the other mouse's arm, little flames still licking away at the wood of the floors and walls. "No Gus-Gus, fire very bad!"

Toothless, amid the catastrophe, sat back with a content grin. Ah…what a time it was for a nice, long, nap.

.

"You are the only ladies of the household, I hope—uh, I presume?" the Grand Duke inquired, straightening himself after that faux pas.

"There's no one else, Your Grace," the Stepmother assured because while her daughters undoubtedly failed her yet again, at least there was a personal victory that she could take solace in. The little  _brat_ was still in her clutches and after this, she'd teach the little wench what it means to disobey her and steal what rightfully belonged to her daughters.

The man hastily nodded and adjusted his monocle; he didn't want to seem  _too_  eager to leave…but alas, there were many-a-homes left to interrogate—err inspect for the Prince's betrothed. "Quite so. Good day, good day," the man bid, making his way to the door.

The manor nearly shook at what sounded like a fiery explosion.

Smoke billowed from the upstairs as Hiccup raced down the steps, coughing out, "' _No one else' my a_ —oh forget it," the Viking groaned. "Your Grace!" He leaped down the steps of the staircase, startling every occupant in the foyer. He stopped before the lanky noble, clearing his throat and tried to look a bit more presentable. Nevertheless, his first words to him were, "Against what  _she_  says, I'm allowed to try, aren't I?" he drawled with a thumb jerked at the Lady's direction.

The Stepmother was at her side that instant, drawing distance between the brunet and the Duke. "Oh pay no attention to her."

"It's only Cinderella—," Anastasia insisted.

"Our scullery maid..." Drizella added.

"—It's ridiculous, impossible!"

"...from the  _kitchen._ "

"Sh-she's out of her mind!"

"Yes just an  _imaginative_  child," Lady Tremaine emphasized. Hiccup threw her a hard glare and was more than surprised to see the Duke brush past her and come to his side.

"Madam, my orders were  _every_  maiden," he announced with finality; and sure…maybe there was something about these women that he just didn't like. Honestly…outright _lying_  to him like that! He looked to the young brunet and gently reassured the…familiar face. "Come my child," he said kindly, as he motioned to the chair.

But of course, Hiccup should have seen it coming miles away…but even then, it somehow never ceased to amaze him the lengths some people would dare approach, what cruelty they were willing to commit, all in the name of spite. He watched with disbelief and a little bit of awe as the Lady tripped the Duke's servant carrying the glass slipper, and watched the scene with a sense of inevitability as the Duke vainly attempted to save the fragile glass. The brunet winced as it smashed to the floor, shattering into hundreds of fragments, irreversibly broken without an ounce of magic to piece it back together.

Hiccup supposed he was to feel sullen at the prospect—even a little bit. But that was wholly overshadowed as the Duke blubbered out in distress and horror. "Oh no! No, no, no, no, oh no… Oh this is terrible! The King! What will he say? What will he do?" The man gulped and paled. Oh the Duke knew what he was going to do…immediately after this, he should stop by to his chateau and bid his wife and children a tearful goodbye.

Thankfully (on both their parts), Jack chose that exact second to poke his head through the main doors, an irritated grimace on his royal mug. "Hey, what's the hold up? I— _Hiccup_!" Funny how his eyes seemed to brighten at the sight of the brunet.

Not that…it was anything special or something. "Jack?"

The Prince pushed past the doors, practically flying to the Viking. "It's you! Augh God!  _Finally_ …I was getting bored out of my mind waiting in that carriage."

Hiccup deadpanned. "Well isn't that nice for you. I was locked in the attic." But Hiccup guessed that if he was stuck waiting by the carriage all morning for the Duke to finally announce he had found the right house, he'd be delighted to see his salvation from boredom too.

"Oh right…that part always made me so mad! Sheesh, what some people would do out of—" Hiccup cleared his throat and stopped Jack mid-rant and wordlessly indicated for him to turn around.

The Lady, quite displeased at the turnout, coldly demanded, "What is going on here?" Prince or not, if he wasn't marrying any of  _her_  daughters, then he had no place here. She was still the Master of this house and this was her domain to command.

"Pardon me,  _Ma'am"_  and he did quite a lovely job of stretching out that title with a defensive tone. "But this here is the  _lovely lady_  I danced with the night before. There's no mistaking it." There went an arm around Hiccup's waist and it was then that the brunet really started to feel awkward. "And I intend to marry her." Definitely awkward, but there was this incessant, fluttery feeling at the pit of Hiccup's stomach at the announcement.

Was he supposed to feel irritated? Hiccup was pretty sure he was feeling irritated. "Such a charmer," he remarked with a roll of his eyes.

"Shush, I'm defending your honor," Jack muttered back.

"But that's impossible!" Anastasia gasped.

"She can't be!" Drizella added.

"With all due respect, Your Highness…" Lady Tremaine stepped forward, mouth curled in wickedness. "Where is your  _proof_?"

And Hiccup was right—she was definitely scary…but they'd been through worse. "Are you kidding me? It's written all over my feet!" Even Hiccup had to wince at the sight of the…rather angry looking marks littering pale skin as Jack lifted up his pant leg. The Duke seemed quite appalled as well. "We uh…got a little crazy…with the erm…'dancing' last night," the Prince explained lamely.

Hiccup awkwardly leaned in close to the other boy. "Is that the best you got?" the brunet whispered still trying to smile through his agitation. "Your  _bruises?_ "

"Yes? Good thinking, by the way, making so  _many_  of them," the older boy quietly drawled. "And would it kill ya to play along here?" Jack grumbled beneath his breath.

Though the brunet very much wanted to give a rather scathing retort to that, he was sure that right now, it'd be best to play along. So he clung to Jack's arm as he gingerly lifted his prosthetic and placed it right beside the bruises while the Grand Duke inspected the formations against the general contours of the prosthetic. There was a moment of utter silence as the man turned the metalwork this way and that, inspecting the blots on pale skin and the shape of the prosthetic, the noble moving around the pair and eyeing the presented limbs like a vulture.

Eye enlarged with the monocle for one more little bruise to scrutinize, the Duke thankfully remarked, "Well, there's no doubt about it! These marks were definitely made by your…" The Duke eyed the three ladies with distaste and distrust. "' _Scullery maid'_."

"Actually, they're my stepfamily," Hiccup enlightened. He looked to them, eyes reflecting back with emptiness, with neither hatred, nor forgiveness. Just apathy. "Yeah, strange isn't it? That one's own  _family_ could turn against one another out of resentment and greed?" And despite his words, his voice betrayed nothing at all.

"I see…" the Grand Duke narrowed his eyes at the triad of women. "Well…that's an issue to settle—"

"No. There's nothing to settle." Even if he wanted them to realize their own faults and flaws, to witness retribution at their deeds and after years of torment…Hiccup wasn't that type of person…and neither was Cinderella."Just to move forward from." ' _It's time she found her happiness…and that means leaving all this behind._ ' So he turned to Jack and attempted a bashful smirk. "So…marriage you said?"

Hiccup tried to ignore the fact that he wasn't even bothered by the arm slipping around his waist, nor Jack's self-satisfied grin as he said, "That's how the story goes, darling."

Because wasn't that how all love stories ended?

.

The ceremony was really quite…something.

The church was quite a marvel with their luminous stained-glass windows, the elegant floral array dotting the pews, the awed and happy entourage that all around him (because he was pretty sure this was Jaq and Gus's first time seeing a grand place like this and Hiccup was certainly not getting married without his best friend beside him) and the sheer beauty the ambience exuded was enough to take any bride's breath away.

Too bad Hiccup was no ' _any_   _bride_.' "'Madly in love'?" he muttered, careful not to let the priest catch his words; it was rather fortunate the elder gentleman appeared hard of seeing and currently had his nose buried in a rather large and heavily ornate book.

"Should anyone object to this union…" the arid voice rasped.

"What word other than 'mad' can you use to describe love-at-first-sight?" Jack mumbled out in reply. "I mean, we're getting  _married_ , aren't we?"

It hit him then, and Hiccup groaned. "I can't believe we're getting  _married_." And it truly was startling; the fact that he was standing there in a large and ornate cathedral, white dress adorned, veil adding an extra pound to his head, and a quivering bundle of flowers in his hands as his fingers trembled and twitched. By Hiccup's side, Toothless bleated softly, pausing from his lazy play with the train of his partner's dress to assure the boy that despite the strange proceedings, things would probably turn out all right. Or maybe the Night Fury meant to say that he was getting a bit tireless after hearing the elder gentleman speak for a solid twenty minutes. Hiccup still needed to work on his Dragonese.

Despite it all, Jack seemed to note the brighter side of things. "I can't believe they threw together this entire wedding in four hours." Or, rather, the offhanded things that were sure to get his little bride riled up. But he meant well—or at least Hiccup would hope so as the frosty-haired teen grinned a little and murmured. "Lighten up, will ya? This doesn't even feel like ' _our'_  wedding."

And it was true; it happened so suddenly that the gravity of such a commitment didn't even sink in entirely; to Hiccup and Jack, this wasn't  _their_  'happy ending.' It was Cinderella's and the Prince's. A woman who dreamed with all her heart to find happiness and a man who believed in true love and would do anything to find it…so who were they to ruin this auspicious occasion? Nevertheless, Hiccup scoffed. "I'm pretty sure I'd have a heart attack if it really were." But even Jack knew there was no real heat in his words; all smoke and no flame. But still, despite it not being  _their_ wedding, he was entitled to feeling just a bit nervous, wasn't he? "You sure this'll work?"

"Let them speak now or forever hold their peace." the high priest finished with a resounding finality.

Eyes of blue softened. "You remember the green fairy: ' _After all a kiss is a paltry fine.'"_ But then his smile turned playful and Hiccup knew he'd have to get a retort ready. "Why? Getting butterflies?"

Cue the eye-roll. "If swallowing butterflies makes your nauseas,  _sure_." And though that wasn't his best, not only was it milder for the matrimony, but it was also true. "Plus, this corset is squeezing my innards." His respect for women reached new heights during this little adventure; not only were their wardrobes seemingly designed for torture and discomfort but it must have taken a great amount of strength and restraint not to end up keeling over.

"Not too long now, don't worry," the groom reassured. But now that Jack was looking at him, sure enough, the corset did manage to accent the boy's figure and the dress. Though it wasn't like he'd outright say the cloth death-trap was doing wonders in accenting the boy's…'curves.' "You look great by the way." What? He didn't  _outright_  say it.

And again, the eye-rolling commenced. "I can't take that as a compliment."

"It was a statement, not a compliment," Jack placidly reminded. Plus…he wasn't lying. White looked good on the kid.

It just occurred to the pair that the monotone droning had stopped. Nervously, two pairs of eyes drifted to the front of the altar where the priest lightly cleared his throat. And in an angle that no one could see, he hid a smile behind his hand as he looked to the Prince. "You may now kiss the bride."

It also just occurred to Hiccup that he'd be kissing Jack again…this time in front of a whole kingdom. He audibly gulped and felt as though the sound itself echoed infinitely through the dead silence. Against himself, he murmured, "This better work, Jack…" careful not to jump as the Prince drew in closer.

That dizzying sort of sensation was back, washing over him, bittersweet in his tongue like the end of a tale, turning the page to find the ornate words  _The End_  staring back to gaze upon longingly, but knowing there was nothing left but to close the cover despite the swelling emptiness. He felt it on his tongue, felt it pulse gently in his heart, felt it as Jack murmured against his lips, "But if it doesn't?" And there, written in those eyes of blue, was a familiar worry that he had seen in himself many times before.

Hiccup really didn't have a proper response to that; it was their plan, after all, to do this right and to get back to where they needed to be. This wasn't where they were  _meant_ to be because in the end, fairytales would bid their farewells once the lessons were learned and life continued on—moving forward without lament. Hiccup was needed and he had to guess Jack was too. But if they were thrown back into some other fable in fate's cruel intent, at least Hiccup had this to say: "Then…we'll figure something out together."

And for Jack, that seemed to be enough as he closed the distance between them without another word, lips meeting in something chaste and something sweet, the colors and sound all around them falling like snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *= I will never not use that line in a multi-chaptered fic with Hiccup.
> 
> The last scene of Cinderella was actually the two newlyweds riding off in their carriage and kissing as they drove off; I figured since they got married before that, their unmentioned first kiss at the altar should be the last scene for this little arc.
> 
> Answers to some questions some may have:
> 
> *= Why didn't Jack know recognize the fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty? I already mentioned some reasons as to why in the story, but the main reason is that by comparison, Sleeping Beauty is less known than Cinderella; that, and Aurora was not the original princess's name of the tale collected by the Brothers Grimm. There are some major differences with the original versions of Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella, but I felt that Disney kept with the more traditional elements of the latter.
> 
> How does Jack know the basics of the Waltz? Well, being alive for as long as he had, I'm sure he would have picked up on something. Not only that, but as compared to the minuet and other formal group dances, it's relatively simple to learn by comparison. It was a folk dance before it became a ballroom dance so the steps weren't overly complicated and generally, anyone can learn it. Though, this was initially frowned upon due to the closed position partners stayed in and the intimate placement of the hands that caused the waltz to be deemed as immoral.
> 
> *= Jack never experienced the little mishap with time; only the both of them can experience it if both Hiccup and Jack are within the same "frame." So, while Hiccup caused the little temporal mishap earlier, Jack was affected just as everyone else was in the story: frozen. Same concept applies with Toothless.
> 
> Walt Disney once said this in defense to Cinderella as being viewed as naïve and weak: "She believed in dreams, all right, but she also believed in doing something about them. When Prince Charming didn't come along, she went over to the palace and got him." Plus, if you actually listened to the story, she never dreamed of being married off to find her Prince either; all she wanted was freedom from her stepfamily.
> 
> The glass slipper in Cinderella demonstrates Cinderella's adaptability to tough situations. The fact that she can walk and dance gracefully with glass slippers shows that despite difficult circumstances, she maintains herself. So, I guess Hiccup could probably do the same if the glass slipper was a metaphor as well.
> 
> And yes…that question: If Cinderella's slipper fit her perfectly, why did it fall off? Well heels weren't meant for running. Stairs make it even harder. Plus a glassy surface and feet that have been dancing for a while? My guess is that some perspiration, added with the extra bumpy and fast movements, added to why the slipper fell off.
> 
> Other question: why did that slipper fit no one else? In other versions that I've read, the slipper actually changes size so no other woman would fit the slipper except for its rightful owner. (It is magic, after all. Although the rest of the magic disappeared after the midnight, Cinderella still managed to keep her shoes... Deus ex machina? Probably.)
> 
> Fun facts: Cinderella's shoe size is 4 and a half (compare that to an average boy of fifteen at around a size 9~10). In the French version of Cinderella, it was revealed that the Prince's name is Prince Henry.
> 
> (Shall we continue on?)


	4. Journey to the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, as the saying goes: "The only predictable thing about life is its unpredictability." – Remy ("Ratatouille" 2007)
> 
> Some dialogue was changed from the movie; the script had many revisions before the final product was released, so my apologies ;;
> 
> Some notes at the bottom regarding history and inaccuracies. Special thanks goes out to queenofyoursoda on tumblr for taking on the role of beta, your encouragement, and agreeing to kick my butt into writing this and to Valerie Kreiss for your support, your requesting this, and somehow believing that I could finish this monster one day.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but a laptop and certain plot elements.

When the colors had faded, white had been the last he saw before drifting off; when he was anchored to consciousness once again, he wasn't surprised to see it once more, petal-soft in descent over a scenery of snow. Those first few seconds were calming, a balm to the chaos that was sure to ensue.

He had been right.

By now, Hiccup had undergone two very strange incidences of waking: one in which he opened his eyes to being hovered over by three very perplexed and horrified winged-women and another by the incessant bellow of foreboding bells and the exuberant and comprehensible prattle of animals. By all means, this third incident had perhaps been the most unassuming and ordinary morning he had so far.

Still, that didn't mean Hiccup was any less appreciative of being hauled out of the dank and miserable house and into the frigid fields.

She was quite a sight after all: stern glare and eyes hardened with decades of bitter winters (both figurative and literal) made Hiccup almost cheer at the sight of such a ruthless and Viking-esque demeanor. Too bad the moment she spoke in an alien accent, words heavy with the ancestry of a far-off place, Hiccup's hopes were dashed.

Things (obviously) went downhill from there.

"I got you a job in the fish factory," "Comrade" Phlegmenkof (as she impatiently introduced herself as in the midst of Hiccup's confusion) dictated. She trudged through the snow, barely affected by the spectating scenery. "You go straight down this path 'til you get to the fork in the road; go left—  _are you listening?"_

Hiccup twisted around, hand caught in an awkward mid-wave to the saddened children standing by the door and the numerous others pressed against the widows with wide, teary eyes. The brunet coughed and brought his hand to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly at the darkened scowl on the elder woman's face. "Uhm, ye-yeah, sorry, the _fish…fish factory_ , was it?"

Maybe not so elderly. Not by how fast she shot out her hand and caught Hiccup by the raggedy scarf wrapped around his neck. Comrade Phlegmenkof tugged the boy along, indifferent to his discomfort of being dragged around in the snow and his increasing need of oxygen. "You've been a  _thorn_  in my side since you were brought here…"

Pulling back a bit, Hiccup was only slightly surprised to find that he could not remove the woman's iron grip. " _A-ack,_ wait—lemme go—"

"—Acting like the  _Queen of Sheba_  instead of the  _nameless_  no-account you are!" the woman continued as she steered the brunet towards the gate.

When she finally released her hold, Hiccup gave her a dry look as he massaged his throat. "You must do  _wonders_  for these kids' self-esteem, really…"

(Thankfully) she didn't appear to hear him. "And for the last ten years— I've fed you, I've clothed you! I've kept a—"

"—roof over my head?— _ow!"_  What was it with this woman and keeping that scarf like a leash?

As she opened the rusty gates fencing the dilapidated manor, there was something akin to suspicion mixed with the irritation in her gaze towards the Viking. "How  _is_ it you don't have a clue as to who you were before you came to us, but you can remember  _all_  that?"

Hiccup's hand closed protectively against the scarf; or at least, that's what he thought himself doing until his hand grazed the golden chain that hung to his chest. "I—" The ' _don't?_ ' was promptly left to die in his throat as the elder woman gave a disdainful hack.

"Ack!  _I know,"_ she ground out, already quite rehearsed in what appeared to be an old argument. With a harsh tug at the necklace, she gave a derisive glance at the inscribed words on the pendant. A mock of sympathy bled from her voice: " _'Together in Paris_ '… So, you want to go to France to find your family, huh?"

Hiccup blinked. "I…guess?" ' _Paris?_   _France?_ '

The woman gave a condescending chuckle before brutishly yanking the teen past the spired threshold. "Little Miss  _Anya_ ,"

Hiccup winced. "Okay, enough of the grabbing—"

"It's time to take your place in life …In life and in line, and be  _grateful_  too," she spat.

The teen regarded the fact that he didn't land face-first into the snow as a small victory. "Thanks for the advice," Hiccup returned dryly.

And with a haughty laugh, the rusty iron clamored as the woman slammed the gate shut, spite echoing in her words: " _'Together in Paris_!'" Comrade Phlegmenkof gave one last cackle before the winter chill gave a merciless attack to her lungs.

Hiccup rolled his eyes, tucking the pendant back to rest against his chest, a burning defiance settling beneath his skin. Still, he couldn't help but to catch those scathing words as they tread behind him, one uneasy step after the other as the sight of the dark house grew smaller and smaller behind him.

_Be grateful_.

There were many things to be grateful for, that was certain. Still, being grateful wasn't an excuse for striving for more, was it? The Viking huffed, not for the first time, wishing he had Toothless beside him. After all, their friendship was a testament to defy that statement, wasn't it?

Had Hiccup been grateful, he would have been content in doing exactly what he had planned: cut out the dragon's heart and presented it to his father and ultimately take his place among the hundreds of others in his ancestry: a dragon-hunter, a protector of his tribe, a  _true_  Viking.

But yes, he was grateful. But more than that, he was  _selfish_. In truth, sparing Toothless's life had been the most selfish act he had ever accomplished. Capturing a Night Fury was no easy feat: he threw a miracle back at the Gods' faces, turned his back against his tribe and all their teachings, and downed a magnificent creature—now bound to the runt of the village in both physical and emotional dependence.

And he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not truly and not for one moment. Because everything that came from it was so much better than what he ever thought he could be  _grateful_  for.

So yes, Hiccup was  _very_ skeptical of that. He snorted derisively. " _'Be grateful, Anya…_ ' Yeah, you know the only thing I'm grateful for is  _leaving_ ," he muttered.

And quite suddenly, Hiccup was suddenly reminded why Comrade Phlegmenkof seemed so familiar and for the first time in a while, the remembrance did not cause a ache of nostalgia. He had to deal with them before: products of prejudice and traditional expectations upheld by rigid era; a place was set for everyone, like cogs in a machine. For the good of the whole; there was just no room for  _more_. He had seen it in Mildew and many other older citizens of Berk—nowhere near as radical as the three-time widower, but still disapproving and rigid to their ways.

But he remembered how they did come to accept, how people could change, how traditions and perspectives were challenged with this novel and radical movement in their tiny, stagnant island…and gradually, Berk was no longer either. Not in a literal sense, but within their people, their community, their  _culture_.

After a few seconds of somber silence as he continued on, Hiccup deadpanned as he arrived at the literal and metaphorical fork in the road: one sign indicated to "Fisherman's Village"; the other sign pointed to the direction of a place carved out as "St. Petersburg."

In reality, it should have been an easy decision. " _'Go left_ ', she says," Hiccup mocked in the woman's gruff voice. He glanced at each path as far as his sight could take him. Both were identical to the other yet could very well end in very different destinations.

Different destinies.

Not like it mattered; whatever was keeping him here certainly dictated his direction, right? But it wasn't like Hiccup wanted to waste time anyways. Hiccup sighed. "Well, I know what's to the left. Another crazy ride, maybe. Just one after the other…and then what? Home? Eventually?" Although a large part of him did expect this to happen once again, a smaller but more significant part of him was genuinely disappointed when he awoke to another foreign land. Despite how Berk was enclosed by the waves in an unforgiving embrace, Hiccup never knew he could miss such a suffocating place so much. Green eyes lingered on the opposite path. "But if I go right ... Maybe I could..." He shook his head. "Yeah, probably get stuck in time again."

A defeated sigh slunk its way from his throat. Hiccup winced, noting that the feel of the harsh jerks the woman gave still made him feel as though the cloth wrapped around his neck was a bit too tight. He moved to adjust the worn scarf until his fingers brushed against cold metal. In a practiced motion, he picked the neckpiece by the pendant, inspected the glittering gems, and turned it over to peer into the inscriptions.

Hiccup didn't have a lot of experience with jewelry; he was more suited to working with contraptions than trinkets, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the expertise behind the necklace. The gold shone brightly and the gems—emeralds and rubies, Hiccup believed—were finely and precisely cut in identical components and in symmetry by a master jeweler, judging by the delicate and seemingly precious material it was made of; no one less could have been entrusted to craft such a delicate piece. So why was such a treasure left in the hands of "nameless no-account"?

Hiccup bit his lip in contemplation. "Whoever gave her this necklace  _must_  have…" The ensuing pang of longing to find out was too hard to ignore. Nevertheless, Hiccup was doubtful. "Augh, c'mon…this is crazy— _me_? Go to  _Paris?"_ Not only was the Viking unsure where exactly that was (and judging by the incredulity he received from Comrade Phlegmenkof back there, he guessed it must be quite a journey), but he hadn't the slightest idea how to get there.

"Gods…some people get lost in the woods, drift out at sea—no, not me. I manage to get hauled into a whole different  _REALITY_!" It was an ill-timed kick to a mound of snow that had Hiccup landing on his ass, covered in white, and bewildered. His prosthetic had apparently snagged on long scarf that trailed behind him as he drew his feet back and Hiccup could only seethe in embarrassment. Quite happy for once that no one was around to see that pathetic display, the brunet lifted his head skyward, the cap he had hastily thrown on now slumped to the slush beside him. At least the  _brisk_  winds were good at keeping a headache at bay. Still, that did little to cool Hiccup's frustration. "Ugh…what do I have to do to get out of here…"

Out of "here" (wherever  _here_ is) and out of the cold; he rubbed the base of his leg where flesh met with metal; it was starting to ache from the unleveled ground and from wading through so much snowfall. The situation was beginning to become a bit bleak for Hiccup, and if there was anything that the stubborn Viking hated, it was feeling  _useless._

Hiccup closed his eyes and groaned. He prayed to whichever Gods were listening; really, he'd take anyone at this point. "Come on…Send me a sign! A hint!  _Anything_!"

Thankfully, someone was at least willing to listen to the grumpy pleading. A very familiar growl resounded through the emptiness as a dark and swift creature bounded up to Hiccup, fascinated by his new toy—err, winter accessory, currently limp on the snow like a dejected tail.

Eyes wide and a happy grin threatening to burst, the first words to erupt from Hiccup's mouth were: " _BUD_!" The brunet looked up in a silent show of thanks and for one heaven-sent second, he actually believed his prayers were answered. That is, until he turned. It was a bit funny how one's face could get caught between a look of salvation and horror. "Oh…oh Gods no, Toothless—what  _happened_?!"

Toothless loved his human, he really did. But he couldn't help the utterly unamused glare that the situation called for; of course the Night Fury was aware of his… _slighter_ form, but he didn't know how that came about either. He made a series of draconic barks, all with a very sardonic undertone.

At that, Hiccup was at least grateful his best friend was mostly himself. Still… "Well, looks like you're not my ticket out of here either, Bud. Again." He leaned forward to the _tiny_  dragon to take in the drastic change. Not that there was much to see. Toothless was only a fraction of the length of a Terrible Terror, and from a distance, he appeared more like a stray cat than the extremely rare and dangerous breed of Night Fury. Nevertheless, Toothless puffed out his chest in pride, challenging Hiccup to say  _one_ patronizing word with a blunt glare. Hiccup, as best friends were wont to, ignored it. "Well least you're…travel-sized, huh?" And Hiccup proceeded to make the monumental error of his lifetime.

Toothless gave him one short and sweet response; Hiccup didn't even need to learn Dragonese for this one: he nipped him.

" _Ack!_ " The small dragon tried not to look too pleased as Hiccup nursed his hand and cradled the  _injury_  (so dramatic, his human) to his chest. "Okay, okay…I get it. You don't like being picked up, huh?" He grinned, realizing he just bruised his buddy's pride. "Aw, don't pout, Big-Baby-Boo…I'm sure you'll get bigger eventually!" Not that Hiccup was completely sure of that; after all, Toothless had been getting progressively smaller and smaller through each little journey they took. Still, a small Toothless was a much better alternative to being lost and alone without his best friend. The brunet smiled fondly, a touch of melancholy lingering on his lips. "However big you are…I'm just glad you're here."

At that, the Night Fury purred consolingly and curled up against his boy. The dragon may be small, but he'd still be there to protect his rider. And Hiccup was glad for the gesture. Toothless in this form was at least as active as he was when he was his regular size, unlike in their last misadventure. He at least had someone present (and conscious) to count on from here on in.

"But where is ' _here'_? And where did you come from, anyways?" Hiccup asked, scratching right beneath Toothless's chin.

The dragon promptly melted against the comforting touch, but to answer his rider, he flicked his tailfin (miniaturized prosthetic and all) towards the path he had bounded from.

"Right, huh…" He took a look up to the cloud-veiled sky, eyes meeting with just the smallest glimmers of the sunlight breaking through. Hiccup gave a rueful grin. "All right…I can take a hint." With renewed optimism (or at least, a renewed vigor to keep him out of the same state of indecisiveness), Hiccup grabbed his hat, pulled himself to his feet, startling his companion. "Well Bud, looks like we're going right! So much for the fish factory…"

At the mention of his favorite dish and the comprehension that they were opting to  _avoid_  that route, Toothless whined in protest.

"Toothless, don't you think we've had enough of listening to little old ladies?" Yes, out of all the little old ladies he had met at this point, he'd stake his life on not following orders from Comrade Phlegmenkof. "C'mon! If I'm wrong, we'll know soon enough!"

Seeing as the dragon had no real choice here, all Toothless could manage was a flat look and an irritated swish of his tail; still, he begrudgingly trotted by Hiccup's side.

"Saint Petersburg…" Hiccup wasn't sure what to make of a name like that; who knows what he'd find there. Mostly, however, he was hoping to find at least one thing. "Huh…I wonder if that's where Jack is too…"

.

Hiccup would rather not go through the entire experience as to how he came here in the first place. After getting the wind knocked out of him at the sheer  _size_ of the city and its buildings, the hustle and bustle of people, and the strange sights he saw that he really had no words for, he was finally able to collect himself long enough to construct a simple query as to how to get to Paris; now, finding someone who was willing to help him...

(You can only imagine how that went for the poor [read: awkward] Viking.)

Eventually—not that he'd be willing to say exactly how long—someone took pity on the wandering teen and directed him towards the line of booths some blocks away.

Well, none of that really mattered right now because he  _finally_  made it to the front of the line. Hiccup cleared his throat. "Uh, excu- _excuse_  me." The man operating the booth appeared to be an official of some sort, carrying an air of displeasure at his very existence. Hiccup thoroughly ignored the apparent sneer on the man's face. "So, uh, people here say you're the guy to see to leave this place?"

"Exit visa?" the official grunted.

Hiccup blinked. "Uh…exit visa?"

If Hiccup hadn't been so used to it for the majority of his life, he might've cringed at the low snarl he received. "No exit visa?  _No ticket_." And with that eloquent declamation, the ticket agent hung a "PEOPLES' LUNCH BREAK" sign on his booth and promptly slammed the shutters in Hiccup's face. The latter, however, was something Hiccup was not quite so used to.

He turned to the other booths in hopes for better luck, but who was he kidding? Luck was rather fickle when it came to Hiccup. The entire row of ticket agents repeated that same course of action, leaving Hiccup between sentiments of affronted disbelief and sheer amazement.

"Well that's…just wonderful," the teen grumbled. Beside him, Toothless seemed to suggest waiting a while longer for them to return, but even if the agent did come back, that still left one problem: "What in Odin's name is an  _exit visa?_ "

"Finding it hard to leave, I see?"

Hiccup would have admitted that he had been startled by the clear and striking voice cutting through the city noise like silence in a storm; he would have admitted that  _only_  because he was unmistakably startled when he turned to the owner of those words.

After all, she had been standing not two feet away from him, a placid smile on her face and an intent stare in her eyes. Hiccup fought the urge to back away hastily. "Ah, yeah…I, uh, need an exit visa."

The young woman's grin grew wider in an amiable show of good nature. "Oh, everyone needs travel papers nowadays; quite…inconvenient when you're trying to get to where you need." Yet her eyes retained that strange intensity, focused solely on him.

But Hiccup shouldn't be too bothered by it; after all, this was the first person willing to instigate a conversation with him since he got here. "Tell me about it…" Perhaps riding off to the ends of the earth on practically a daily basis had spoiled Hiccup just a bit. He shook his head. "Uhm, yeah, travel papers, sure. Do…you happen to know where I can—"

He barely let out a yelp after the woman seized him by the scarf and tugged him closer, their breaths mingling in the snowy air. He struggled to free himself from her hold before being tugged back, her words privy for his ears alone. "See Dimitri…He can help," she murmured and Hiccup feared for just a second if she was thinking of strangling him from the swift and firm movements of her hands, manipulating the scarf around his neck.

As he absorbed her words, Hiccup swallowed nervously. There was something in them…underlying her merry tone, a hint of a command surfaced: an urgency that crested through the feminine lilt. "Where can I find this…Dimitri? And how can he help me?"

The woman finished tying the scarf so it now wound snugly over Hiccup's neck and no longer dragged on the floor, keeping her eyes on his with that ever-present flare in her irises. "At the Old Palace…but… _ahaha_ , you didn't hear it from me." The woman seemed to give no notice at the unnerved shiver Hiccup gave in return. Instead, she bade him an affectionate pat on the cheek before unceremoniously grabbing the boy by the shoulders and twisting him around to face the bleak, looming structures of the gray cityscape.

"Uhm, right… D- _mitri_ ," Hiccup managed to avoid stumbling over his own feet but he couldn't help but feel he wasn't so successful with doing the same concerning his thoughts; he knew this was strange and he knew to take the advice with a grain of salt. What he needed right now were straight answers. "Well, thanks, but you still—"

Nevertheless, it really shouldn't have come as a surprise to Hiccup that by the time he turned, the woman was nowhere to be found.

At that very moment, Hiccup very much wanted to kick himself. "Abandoned me like the rest…Wonderful… _just_  wonderful." The teen sighed and turned to the only one he could really expect on to stick with him through this. But Toothless's eyes were fixed on the road ahead. Hiccup supposed he should be doing the same. "Well, at least she wasn't a  _little old_  lady. That must mean something, right Bud?"

From his rocky Dragonese, Hiccup wasn't too sure if Toothless said, " _Unclear; may fate smile upon you."_ or if he meant " _Unlikely; fate may smite upon you."_

.

Not for the first time today, Jack was utterly floored at what he had been dragged into. Partially because the large man beside him insisted that this was mostly his doing.

Jack kept his smile steady though his words were anything but the patience he was trying to exhibit. "Okay…for the last time, can you tell me  _again_  why we're doing this?"

"Don't look at me, this was  _your_  plan!" Vladimir retorted.

Jack supposed this could have been much worse; Vladimir seemed like an easy enough guy to get along with; that said, he felt that he trusted the robust man to lead him into this strange character that he had been referred to, this "Dimitri."

And it was another character, much to Jack's chagrin. Seeing St. Petersburg again should have been a cause for celebration; many times he had wandered through these streets, unseen and free to do as he pleased. Apparently, he was now barred from doing both. This was St. Petersburg all right; but it wasn't  _his_ St. Petersburg.

This was 1926, nearly a  _century_ back before his Guardianship, before being seen, before being  _believed._

Not that he could do a thing about it; as of now, he wasn't  _Jack Frost._ He was Dimitri and although it was still unclear who Dimitri really was, Jack did know this: that he and Vladimir were now sitting at a large table with stacks of résumés and 8 x 10 glossies atop; before him, an enormously long list of names— a roster—spilled out onto the floor in front of him with nearly every name crossed out in apathetic (and frustrated) lines of black ink.

And for the past few hours, they have been interviewing some of the saddest and most pitiful attempts of acting Jack had ever witnessed in all of his three hundred years of existence.

The Guardian wasn't quite sure what they were exactly looking for; he had  _heard_  rumors of this going around years ago—the auditions held to find the "real" Anastasia (or someone close enough) and now he was apparently part of it. One thing was certain, however, and that this haughty female before them was  _certainly_  not the one. Jack gave a furtive glance over to Vlad before he scratched off the name once more; despite being the penultimate name on the list and seeing Vlad gradually becoming more and more apprehensive, Jack was quite relaxed (if not a little bored) in their search.

After all, past experience told him that they'd find their "princess" soon enough.

But for all intents and purposes, Jack kept an encouraging tone to the  _still talking_ woman before them. "Nice, nice, very nice, yeah..."

Seemingly goaded on by the response, the delighted female continued. "And I look like a princess, and I dance like a feather!—"

Jack felt his smile falter. "…Okay, hmm…uh, thank you, thank you. Next please!" He was sad to say (but not really) that he didn't bother to try too hard in concealing the look of relief on his face as she was pulled away from the stage.

The last Anastasia "actress" stepped onto the spotlight.

At this point, Jack wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that she was obviously not young enough for the role, or the fact that he was beginning to doubt whether she was…a "she" to begin with. Normally, such a thing wouldn't matter to Jack, but he was sure the Empress would have her qualms.

But he found a better focus on why Miss Ludmilla was unfit for the role when her coat slipped off her shoulders and dramatically (huskily) recited: "Grandmama. It's me— _Anastasia,_ " complete with a suggestive sway of her hips.

Jack and Vladimir, all manners forgotten, gaped in amazement (and horror) at the sight before Vlad groaned and promptly dropped his head down on the table in despair with a pained groan.

"Oh brother…" Jack sighed and resigned himself to try and get that image out of his head.

.

It was with great bemoaning from Vlad that he and Jack depart from the theater and head down through the snow-laden streets of Leningrad* back to the Winter Palace.

Unfortunately for the latter, Vlad  _still_ had not stopped his bemoaning their rather…unfortunate circumstances. "That's it Dimitri. Game over." The man gave a few frustrated movements that passersby had to deftly evade on the narrow walkway; this went unnoticed by the normally considerate man. "Our last kopeck— _gone_!—for this  _flea-infested_  theater, and still no girl to pretend to be Anastasia!"

"We'll find her, Vlad. I'll bet h— _she_ 's here somewhere, right under our noses." Or at least, Jack hoped; with all that happened since their last little adventure, he wouldn't be so surprised to find that the rules had changed in this strange game Fate was playing with them

Vladimir huffed. "And how are you so sure of that?"

"You told me this morning that we're looking for a…princess right?" Jack bit back a rather smug smirk at the memory of Hiccup's angry eyes and his petite figure caged in dresses both boys found ridiculous and, to Jack, oddly endearing on the snide little smart-mouth. "Well…let's just say something tells me we'll find ourselves a princess pretty soon." He wondered what Hiccup would look like in an embroidered court gown, in rich silvers and gold suited for the imperial family.

Jack was only conscious of what face he could have possibly been making when Vlad gave him a strange look. "You've always been determined, but not quite this  _optimistic_ …are you well, Dimitri?"

"Yeah! Great, actually!" Jack eased himself out of that strange train of thought and onto the scenery around him; it wasn't what he last remembered, but the air was still familiar—an echo of days long passed. So as much as it was an excuse, Jack felt nothing but truth in his words as he said, "It feels like it's been forever since I've walked around in these streets…"

And there it was: that annoying grip of loneliness that had shadowed him for centuries; even now, as people saw him, passed by him, even shoved against him in a solid form, they didn't  _see_ him—they saw someone else. At this point, Jack would rather take being literally invisible.

He  _is_ Jack Frost, and taking up his Guardianship not only meant that he was determined to protect children and give them the best snow-days of their lives, but it also meant, for a very selfish part of him, being  _seen_ …not just as a stroke of luck that ended up cancelling school, not just as the glints of snow like diamonds in the morning sun, the intricate patterns of frost on leaves and windows, and not just wintry winds that had people snuggle up for warmth to kindle affection and love between them, but as  _Jack_. Sure, the kids needed him…but maybe not as much as he needed them. Not being alone anymore…that was what he wanted, right? That's why they had to find Hiccup; not just to end this travesty of a tale, but also because despite how those green eyes glowered at him from time to time, they at least  _saw_ him.

And besides…Jack would like to think that those eyes did a little bit less glaring now, since he'd gotten the boy to smile for longer periods of time during their last encounter. And it would be nice, he figured, if he and Hiccup could see each other in their own forms after all was said and done.

Vladimir frowned, not knowing what to make of the oddly…content (and hopeful?) look on his partner's face. "Perhaps you are coming down with something…" The look of concern Jack received was touching at least; though he hadn't found Hiccup yet, he could at least say he wasn't alone. Vlad shrugged. "Well, the faster we get inside, the better. For your sake, Dimitri. Then, we can continue our search."

Seeing that their conversation and even his friend's show of worry had little effect on the disappointment the man faced, Jack reached into his coat and pulled out the ornate jewelry box. Or, at least what seemed to be a jewelry box to the Winter Spirit. He gently turned the heavily ornamented trinket, fingers tracing the string of pearls against the green and gold designs curling in regality within the circular body. It was elegant, that was certain, fit for a princess, a Grand Duchess. "One look at this jewelry box and the Empress will think we've brought the real Anastasia ...that's what you said, right?"

Brightened by the reminder, though not entirely certain of it himself, Vlad gave a half-hearted laugh. "That is what  _you've_ always said, Dimitri. And, I might add: ' _before she catches on, we'll be off spending the ten million rubles!_ '"

' _So that's the kind of person this "Dimitri" is…'_  Jack sighed. "Ten million, huh?" And as Vlad continued on, spirits renewed, Jack's visibly dampened. The Guardian shook off the thought, though he managed an empty chuckle. "I guess…finding family does come at a pretty steep price."

.

Time had consumed its walls.

There stood a decaying opulence about the Catherine Palace; the structure itself was a skeleton of kings and queens—of power, glory, lavishness, greed, and ruin. Empty, it would seem. Or would be. Only time could really etch its destiny in the very foundation of the imperial grounds. Once faithful citizens of the crown had now stolen into its crumbling pillars, grave robbers seeking fortune within its country's hoarded wealth. But what could they have done? Winters were harsh and bread was scarce; the dead needn't such material riches to survive the next day, but the  _living_  craved it with the very air they breathe.

Still, the centuries of Tsars, Tsaristas, Emperors, and Empresses howled with the frigid winds, the splendor and bloodshed of the past resonating within the uncertain future.

Hiccup could almost hear it, falling a few steps behind Toothless as he gazed at the boarded entrance, the nails in its ribs groaning with a decade's ache, caging in the heart of a fallen lineage. It brought shivers to his skin and a sinking sensation within his heart. Still, Hiccup trudged on; the past would not be able to help them much now.

All openings were barred; the temporary seal was meant to deter any more scavengers in search for royal treasures, Hiccup was sure, but right now, it stood as a stubborn barrier. It was with possessed vigor that Toothless suddenly ran through an opening between the floor and the rotting boards. Hiccup watched in bemusement at the disappearance of a mismatched tailfin into the darkness, where not even the dying daylight could reach.

Faintly, Hiccup could pick up the slightest scent of dragonfire before the gales swept the embers away; soon afterwards, there came frustrated scratching from the other side. "Toothless…Toothless, any help from that side, Bud?"

A muffled coo within indicated " _Trying_."

Hiccup sighed. "He's too small…" The teen rubbed the skin above his prosthetic gingerly before sucking in a breath. "Okay, stand clear!" He waited for the sound of scuffling claws against the floor before bracing himself. The ensuing kick made his nerves twinge with cold pain but the creaking of wood occupied Hiccup's mind instead. Another vigorous attack to the lowermost planks was struck with enough force to make a sufficient entry; the resulting crash was almost self-satisfactory.

Toothless peeked outside, giving a gummy smile of encouragement to his wincing companion. Hiccup returned the grin, though his own resembled a grimace. "Ah…well…that wasn't too bad, hm? At least I can finally feel the old stump." The teen gathered his bearings and ducked under the planks with a groan. "C'mon, Bud…"

And with that, they entered the monarchy's tomb together.

.

Jack frowned, the faintest sounds of fading cracks and thuds reaching his ears. He lowered his spoon and looked to his companion. "Did you hear something?"

Vlad looked up from his plate with a shake of his head "Hm? No." Yet Jack wasn't so sure of that.

.

Hiccup found himself within the vestibule of the Catherine Palace; while the exterior held the appearance of weathered dilapidation, within, a fine coating of dust and other aging elements left the royal abode seemingly undisturbed as the revolution abandoned its ideals and forced its people to turn away from the past. Toothless followed in his footsteps as Hiccup removed the tightly-wound scarf as he crossed floor to stairs; although his neck was released from the linen grip, he still could not shake that familiar choking sensation seizing him… Hiccup frowned as he snapped his head back towards entrance, listening intently as a sound carried its way throughout the palace.

Considering that Hiccup was currently trespassing and was without any means of defending himself (save some…sparsely trained combative techniques his father, Gobber, and Astrid helped him with) should that curious noise come with a malevolent weapon, the Viking would rather take his chances elsewhere than wait around for it; he went up the staircase, one step after another with Toothless at his heels. It was starting to be more than just a bit unsettling as the pair reached the second floor, but there was still the chance that whoever they were looking for was still within the crown's corpse.

However, they needed to find this "Dimitri" (though Hiccup had a very good idea just exactly  _who_ this person was) and hopefully get back on track to where Hiccup needed to be. He mentally battled with the two sensible points before he sucked in a breath and, despite the clamor of his nerves telling him this was a probably a bad idea, the halls soon echoed with a distorted voice that called, "Hello? Anybody home?"

A moment or two later, only the stillness of the night returned his question. With that, curiosity overcame the fleeting fright, and the teen absorbed what was all around him.

As ornate and foreign the culture was to the Viking, Hiccup was able to discern a dining hall when he saw one, despite its partial disrepair. Many of the instruments were still there: plates and cups, delicate and, just as the rest of the palace, coated with age and grime. Still, its former decoration and elegance remained, obstinate and waiting for purpose once more. Gingerly, Hiccup picked up a plate for inspection, marveling at the smooth surface and floral embellishments. Or rather, that was what he told himself before he was lost in a half-reverie, gazing into a face he did not recognize, a vision from a time unknown to him.

He hastily blinked the strange reflection away and cleared his throat loudly, startling Toothless beside him. Hiccup gave a sheepish smile before setting the dish back down amongst the grave of others. "Bowls and plates, hm…a bit like the mead hall back home, eh…?" he murmured, more to himself than Toothless.

The dragon looked curiously about, tentatively exploring while keeping close to his human; the boy seemed out of sorts since they had first arrived and it wasn't so comforting knowing that his logical Hiccup wasn't quite so lucid as of late.

Toothless managed something of a frown at the sight of that faraway look in Hiccup's eyes as he continued on to say, "Or something more…" Yes, Toothless was not at all comfortable with the half-smile and the cloudiness in his boy's eyes gave as he gazed upon something, someplace, and some time that the dragon could not. "But you know…more than anything…" And more than anything, Toothless was  _not_ comfortable with that tone in Hiccup's words—that reverence like murky slime coating his voice, as Hiccup's hands carefully traced over a decorated vase. "This place it's…it's like a memory from a dream."

_Dancing bears, painted wings_

_Things I almost remember;_

Size-impaired or not, Toothless took it upon himself to keep his boy out of trouble. So he trotted after him as Hiccup wandered to the top of a great staircase, leading down to the once grand Hall of Lights. While the Viking teen was lulled by some strange force, Toothless was taken by the immense ballroom, portraits hanging from atop the arched windows with an eerie complacency, the only company these walls seemed to house. The emptiness of the palace weighed down upon the dragon with deafening ferocity. With those thoughts in mind, it was with startling abruptness that Hiccup paused at a large landing halfway down the steps, causing Toothless to bump into him.

The irritated snub hung silent in the air before evaporating at the sight before the dragon. His boy's gaze was straight ahead, viridian eyes drawn to the portrait of a family. To the Night Fury and his year-or-so among the people of Berk, their painted expressions ranged from what he could identify as "dignified" and "temperate." For the most part, it seemed to be the former from the lurid ensembles they adorned and the strange ornaments they proudly exhibited. Toothless, for all his time with humans, thought that maybe they might've looked happy at one point. But the way the moonlight struck the portrait so, a ghostly glow darkened the taller humans' expressions—dignity crumbling to reveal tension and apprehension— but made the young ones' appear almost sweetly naïve— unearthly delicate.

A release of breath from Hiccup brought Toothless back, though he wasn't so sure he could say the same for his boy.

_And a song someone sings_

_Once upon a December_

Because although his eyes were no longer lingering on the image before them, his gaze didn't seem to be on anything at all either. Yet he still spoke, and that was enough to keep Toothless from panic. "Bud…do you…do you get the feeling that this place…is really familiar?"

Something flashed before his eyes, too quick, too fleeting for his mind to catch: a glimpse, a fantasy flickering after years of quiet sleep, now a quiet unrest in Hiccup's thoughts.

Lights, music, laughter, joy, magic and an ambience of  _majesty_ drifted through the broken windows, the moonlight giving an ethereal glow to speckles of dust—a glittering spotlight on illusions and broken recollections. Feet light, head in a haze, phantoms drifted and swayed, a forgotten grandeur stirring in the air once more. Little by little a rhythm took hold of the boy's body, an echo of a lively cadence that once graced the halls in gilded glory.

Toothless watched on, his boy entranced by unseen ghosts, eyes half-lidded and an eerie look overtaking sharp, perceptive eyes. The dragon gave a sharp cry, momentarily breaking the spell. Startled and trying to ground himself, Hiccup turned back to his worried companion. "It…haha…seems crazy, right?" But his eyes didn't linger on his friend's familiar, toxic-green eyes for long. Instead, they wandered to the open hall, where dust and debris coated the tiles, the past left to perish and decay. "But…I think I…think I feel almost at home here…"

_Someone holds me safe and warm_

_Horses prance through a silver storm_

Yet as crazy as he deemed, Hiccup could see it: a glittering floor and ceilings dotted with light, brighter than the morning star, warm, loved, happy.

In a daze, the teen made his way down the stairs, embracing the emptiness, the rotting air. "And it  _is_  crazy, I know…but this place must have really been something else…a long time ago."

Yes,  _time_ , that was somehow a key in all this, something that had yet to fall into place.

It ravaged monuments and erased great names, leaving lives, dreams, and ideas to sink back beneath the tides of obscurity. At that very moment, Hiccup could feel its waves pulling him to and fro, a figment of his imagination or a fragment of the past, he didn't know. All the same, he was swept into its mysterious motion. "Dancing…do you think people danced here, Bud?" A bemused smile fell on his lips. "Maybe I—I can remember… something like that happening."

_Figures dancing gracefully_

_Across my memory_

_Remember_ : had Hiccup been in his right mind, he would have noticed how utterly  _wrong_  that word was. This wasn't a  _memory_ ; of course not. This wasn't something his eyes had seen, not something that he experienced, not something his own senses held, neurons activating and electric current running through his body and chemicals reacting to create something called a  _memory._

But  _it's there_.

The singing _,_ the figures— _so many!—_ in elegance and in flowing dresses that glittered like stars and danced like time itself could not touch the moments, and a  _song_ so precious and dear like a lingering scent of home, the warm embrace of familiarity, a soothing voice to ease the loneliness.

_Far away, long ago_

_Glowing dim as an ember_

Toothless had gotten increasingly worried for his dear human; something in this decrepit ballroom was not making Hiccup himself. The spells were getting worse as his boy moved along with eerie grace—so very unlike the brash and jerky movements of his boy when they were on the ground—courting the phantoms visiting his thoughts. He had to go after him.

_Things my heart used to know_

_Things it yearns to remember_

And faces—achingly familiar in beauty and poise—flooded the auburn's dream-wake and swam around him in teasing and affectionate tones.

_And a song someone sings:_

It was with a second's passing, a single grain of sand within the deserts of time, that Hiccup was released from his hold, from the flickering image of this strange man with kind eyes that looked upon him with unconcealed warmth, whose face faded in and out of his mind's focus, the collapse of a tune, the death of a melody, a final stanza.

" _Once upon a December"_

Toothless skidded to a halt the moment his boy stilled and staggered back; although he couldn't brace the teen with his form as he did when he was in his full size, he was there at Hiccup's side the moment he landed on the floor, the dragon's eyes searching for his boy's, seeing that strange glow eating away at the bright spark in the Viking's green—

And suddenly, it was gone. And his dear human (the foolish thing) blinked once and gently called, "Uh… what just happened, Bud?" Toothless tenderly nosed Hiccup's stomach, the dragon reveling in the confused but steady feel of those familiar hands against his scales. Once more, a stern growl made its way to his throat but promptly died off.

Because with that peculiar episode's departure arrived a yell of " _Hey_!"

The Viking sighed, maybe with relief: that particular voice far too familiar for Hiccup, despite the distortion as it bounced off the glass and stucco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the book series, Hiccup can also speak French (among other languages). And no, Hiccup was not singing ^^; He might've heard the song in his head, however.
> 
> *Historical Notes:
> 
> The term "Comrade" around the 1920s had had come to mean along the lines of "Mister," or "Sir" as an English equivalent. Before, "In the early years of Soviet power in Russia, the Bolsheviks used 'Comrade' when addressing or referring to people assumed sympathetic to the revolution and to the Soviet state, such as members of the Communist party (and originally of other pro-revolution leftist formations such as the Left SR) and people from the 'working masses.'" (Wikipedia)
> 
> Saint Petersburg was actually called Leningrad from 1924 to 1991. Since the Bolshevik Revolution and siege of the Catherine (or Winter) Palace (in the movie) took place in 1916, by the time Anya came to Saint Petersburg and met Dimitri, the city should have retained its new name of Leningrad.
> 
> There were many other historical inaccuracies concerning times and such, but I'll stick to the movie-verse of things for simplicity. (For example, Nicholas II of Russia and his family were not killed "within a fortnight." Instead, it was two years after Nicholas was forced to abdicate from the throne that him and his family were killed (1918).)
> 
> And in the words of my beta: "Don't get me started on Rasputin."
> 
> Disclaimer: Anastasia (1997) does not reflect any political views I hold; any conclusions or hints you're drawing from references in my writing or the script I have decided to follow (that being the 1997 movie by the Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation) that might be of concern to any political stance or affiliation is entirely nonexistent.


	5. In the Dark of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life really gets in the way of your down-time. But we keep going; we keep moving along; but most of all, we keep coming back to the things we love.
> 
> Note: Divergences in the Anastasia storyline. Also it's been a long while since I wrote so…forgive me. Prelude to major conflicts up ahead. As per usual, some notes are at the end as well.
> 
> A huge thank you to queenofyoursoda on tumblr for being an awesome beta in helping me get through this monster and an amazing friend and support for this story, along with hope-for-snow's kind words and unmitigated enthusiasm for this fanfiction; thank you both so very much. You both made writing this story so much more enjoyable.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but a laptop and certain plot elements.

Never let it be said that Jack Frost did not deliver. He told Vlad that a princess would arrive, and unless his eyes were deceiving him, his princess was right before them— aglow under the pale moonbeams, an unearthly and fragile centerpiece amongst the decay and disrepair in the gaping maw of the royal—

—  _wait_. When did he start internally referring to Hiccup as  _his_  princess again?

Jack shook the thought out of his head. Certainly, more important and interesting things took precedence. Like what to do next…and why Hiccup was just lying there on the dirt-crusted floor. "What are you doing in here?" You know…other than being drug through this plotline with little choice.

Toothless jumped at the intrusion, a low growl emanating from his throat; guardedly, Hiccup stood and dusted the grime off his palms as he regarded Jack with a touch of bewilderment, a hint of irritation, and a whole lot of weary relief. "Oh, you know…just waiting. Taking in the sights." Even in near-darkness, there was no mistaking the frosty-haired boy. "I figured I should just let myself in after no one answered the door."

"Hah. I'd know that snark anywhere," the Guardian murmured, a touch of a grin on his face. He turned to the baffled man beside him, giving a quick "Vlad, stay here; let me handle this."

He raced down the steps before his partner could so much as stutter out his not-name, vaguely aware that he'd have to be quick before the other man caught on; and if not, well it'd be the end of  _that_ conversation with the auburn. It was really times like these when the tired phrase  _Three's a crowd_  became an actual dilemma that Jack realized,  _wow_  they really are in some homespun, leather-bound, (or silver screen) fable.

"Hiccup!" the Guardian called, quietly enough for the words to remain undetected by the Russian man.

"Jack!" Well now, the Winter Sprite had to say that he preferred this greeting from Hiccup than their previous encounters; the unabashed urgency definitely trumped the sour look and scowl he had been getting for the past two ' _first meetings.'_ "Where are we?" Even if it was justified by a question demanding to be answered in kind.

"Saint Petersburg, Russia, 1926."

Was that a near-swoon of relief? Jack was on a roll here. "Great, you know where we are! What do we do?"

Aaaand that's where the streak ended. "I…have no idea." At that, Hiccup's thankful smile painfully froze. Well, it was nice while it lasted.

"You have no— _what_?!" It was astounding how quickly one's countenance could fall with just the right placement of words in reply; gravity's got nothing on that.

"Hiccup, as far as I know, this is  _not_  a fairy tale." And if Jack were watching closely, he would have noted the astounding speed of ice-cold dread spreading through Hiccup's veins as well. But he wasn't. "I remember this happening: The Bolsheviks, fall of the Romanovs, the Great War—Hiccup, this is  _my_  world!"

" _What_?" And Jack seemed so excited, so very  _assured_  that all Hiccup could do was let the information sink in, assess the situation like he normally would, and—

—think about where that left him.

Because things still weren't adding up;  _Hiccup_  wasn't Anya, Toothless is definitely not supposed to be the size of a country rat, and…this wasn't home. "But I'm still…I mean—" Hiccup swallowed his words. Mind still awhirl, there was one thing he could concentrate on. Right. No need to be selfish here. This wasn't where Hiccup needed to be. If they made a mistake in that last story— _fine_ , but maybe in retrospect, it would be better for Jack if he didn't have to go through this again. That left Hiccup, then. Hiccup and Toothless, as it had always been.

_That was okay._

But Jack wasn't finished—at least, from what Hiccup could see, because his eyes softened just a bit, maybe out of  _apology_ , but there was also a pervading  _bitterness_  there too. And it was a bit  _selfish_ , maybe a bit justified too, but still just a tad more selfish than Hiccup would have liked, even as a deep sense of relief washed over him when Jack elaborated further with a small voice, sympathetic and commiserative. "Yeah…I'm still not me either."

' _Still trapped then,'_ something whispered in his head and Hiccup could only mouth a silent, " _Oh,"_ in exchange.

Something about Jack that was really starting to grow on Hiccup (not that the Viking would ever say) is that it didn't seem very possible to keep him down for long. This was made exceptionally clear as the Guardian glanced down to the dark figure by Hiccup's feet and raised his brow. "And…looks like neither is your little dragon friend."

Toothless yelped an indignant reply—too rude for Hiccup to say out loud in translation. Shakily, the brunet gave a laugh. "Never judge a dragon by its size, Jack." He heard the other boy scoff in reply to maybe scrutinize his miniaturized friend, but something else caught Hiccup's attention. From the corner of his eye, the auburn could barely make out the outline of the other figure by the banisters. "Not alone, are we?"

"Oh, Vlad," Jack murmured. He chanced a look back before swiftly turning to Hiccup. "It's okay, he's with…well whoever I am."

"Well what do we do now?" They hadn't much time to discuss with another person on the line.

"I don't know…this isn't my time," the Guardian continued. "For me, this is the past."

' _Past?'_ Too many thoughts were popping up in his head and it was becoming something quite bothersome; there was too much to do, too much to say, and not enough time to think.

But there were still some annoyances that prevailed despite how Hiccup tried to concentrate on Jack's words. And that part of Hiccup acknowledged that maybe by the end of all this, he  _would_ be saying goodbye to Jack—for good. But that was a passing speculation, blaring but blurry and soon the forefront of logic to come up with answers quickly overturned the conflicting thought. (But it was still there, refusing to be dispelled, even as) the brunet spoke, "Maybe for you, this is more of a modern story…?" This was all it was, after all. Another fable. An unpredicted time, perhaps, but  _just_  that. Nothing more. "I guess…for now, we keep playing along? Not that we ever had much of a choice anyways." And what they needed to do right now was  _focus_. Get through this mad script and be  _over_ with it so they could get  _home_.

Jack snorted, but still secretly relieved that at least they were together. "Tell me about it; I was forced to go on a man—or rather, I should say,  _princess_ -hunt—all day. Geez, Hiccup, where were you?"

If he told the kid he actually started missing his deadpan glare, he'd wonder if the smaller teen would actually believe him. "Getting kicked out of a miserable home filled with orphaned children and into the bitter, winter cold. Do you really want to trade next time, because I'll be  _more_  than happy to!"

Nah, it'd probably confuse him, if anything. "Always a bright ray of sunshine, aren't you—wait, you were at an orphanage?" That last part was a bit distressing to learn. He opened his mouth to ask more—interrogate, really—until Vlad's blustered voice called out his not-name in a skeptical echo; one that questioned either or both his motives and its effectiveness.

"Uh…is that what they're called?" It occurred to Hiccup that there was  _a lot_  he didn't really know about this place…and that in itself could prove to be problematic for the passionately curious (read: danger-prone) Viking.

Heavy steps echoed throughout the hollow palace walls, signaling the end of their discussion. Jack sighed and wondered if the crazy-spontaneous-idea it was worth carrying out. He took one look at the other boy's wary eyes and decided, yes, it was. He took a breath and announced rather loudly, "Hold on, Vlad, I'm talking to a boy with a dragon here." And for added measure, "Oh, also, I'm Jack Frost."

The footsteps stopped altogether.

Turning back to the brunet, he snorted at the ridiculously dumbfounded look thrown at him. But right now, they had more important things to do. "Okay, recap: you woke up at an orphanage and somehow ended up here."

" _Did you just—"_

"Use an inconvenient security measure as a way to buy more time? Yes."

Begrudgingly, Hiccup figured that it  _was_  pretty ingenious. Again, not that he'd tell Jack that. Gods know the boy's ego would swell through the roof. "Right. And you…staged a princess-hunt?"

"Apparently." The Guardian shrugged. "Although unsuccessful…you ended up here in our midst." Though appearing unimpressed, Jack couldn't help but chuckle at the other. "So that's gotta count for something, right?"

The Viking groaned. From the way things were, he  _highly_  doubted it counted for anything at all. "Jack, unless  _one_  of us is secretly a royal, I  _really_  don't think this is like all the other tales that we had crashed through so far!"

Right, right… this wasn't a fairy tale that Jack knew. Was it one at all? Might as well start with what he  _did_ know. "Okay, okay…uhm...the Romanovs—I…" Eyes of eyes widened. Of course he had been aware of the strife all around him; he remembered wars that were waged, lives that were lost, and empires and civilizations that either rose to prominence or collapsed under political and civil strife. He might not have been around as long as the other Guardians' but he'd seen his own share of horrors. Through the recollections, an epiphany rose: "The  _real_  Anastasia…in my time…" He heard about it, some time ago. After the years of hoping and all the lies and catastrophe smothering the gossiped tale, it was finally confirmed: "She died along with the others."

Hiccup shivered at that, something like dread dropping to the pit of his stomach. He barked out a nervous laugh, his voice frighteningly loud in their silent world. "Great; I'm an  _imposter_  now?" Jack gave him a strange look and not for the first time, Hiccup realized he shouldn't have let his mouth run away with him. Hiccup cleared his throat and started again: "But…this is still a  _story_ ," the brunet reminded.

The Guardian nodded. "Maybe this is a story where the princess  _did_  live and we actually brought her back to the Dowager Empress."

"The  _who_?"

"We'll talk more later—when we're alone." And though it was just a quick flash, something in Jack warmed at the trust from those green eyes. "If we want to know if you're really the princess of this story here, we gotta get  _that_ guy's green light," Jack indicated with a tilt of his head. He took Hiccup's hand and murmured, "Follow me…"

"Uh, where to?" Still unsure, he supposed Jack would suffice to take charge here; this was  _his_  world after all.

The Guardian signaled Vlad to follow and  _surprisingly?_  It worked and those heavy footsteps resumed. "I have an idea. Just play along." Hiccup frowned at that; the last time he had to 'play along', he got hitched.

"Ugh…like I hadn't had enough of  _that_  to last a lifetime…"Well. They both did. But Jack ended up with the better deal: he wasn't the one who had to wear a freaking  _dress. 'If you could call that tent a dress,'_ the brunet thought venomously.

But all the same, the Viking allowed himself to be lead to opposite wall of the ballroom, even as his steps grew more and more trepid with every passing inch. Toothless kept close, if only to watch out for his boy in case that dreaded spell decided to return; although the Guardian was oblivious to it, the dragon tasted the hesitation in his boy's eyes, an inkling of fear, a touch of anxiety, as his rider refused to look directly at the opulent and grandiose depiction of the still-captured royals.

Jack had his mind on other things. It still wasn't entirely certain, but he'd play off what they knew in their past misadventures in that Hiccup always played the ever-lovely maiden. As they reached the magnificent tapestry and to a certain little princess's portrait, he stopped Hiccup there, taking his arm and turning him around; there's confusion in those viridian orbs but relent as well. In the pale moonlight, it might've even looked like…

When Vlad had finally caught up to the pair, he wasn't quite sure what mystified him more: this enigmatic woman or his partner's increasingly odd behavior. "Excuse me, child."

' _Ah, just in time._ ' Jack allowed a slow smile to spread across his face.

To Hiccup, the Guardian was evasive when it comes to exactly  _what_  he's smiling about. And from the way he elbowed the larger man beside him, Hiccup wasn't so sure he liked where this was going.

"Vlad, do you see what I see?" Jack said, even if he was hoping for the opposite.

The man looked to him in befuddlement. "No…"

Jack wasn't exactly deterred; he plucked the spectacles from the man's head and handed it to him. Vlad's confirmation on this was all that was needed to get this show on the road.

Taking a good look at the woman before them and the frieze for comparison, a keen enthusiasm overtook the Russian's visage. "Oh yes,  _yes_!"

"Okay, this got unsettling real fast." Hiccup took a wary step back and Toothless agreed, planting himself firmly between the other men and his rider.

The Guardian shrugged. "True, but it does prove something."

"Dimitri, do you know this striking young woman?" If Hiccup were a Night Fury, his ears would have perked up at that. And no, not at the ' _striking young woman'_  bit either.

Jack shrugged, a careless smile playing at his lips. "Never seen her in my life."

So this was what they had to play. Hiccup cleared his throat, suspiciously eyeing the two. "Right…My name is—  _Anya_ ," and despite it seeming like a bad idea, he thought 'why not,' and added, "but, they call me Hiccup."

There is a moment of silence between the four of them, broken only when Vlad coughed in his hand (very discreetly) while Jack settled for looking just a little amused.

The Viking rolled his eyes. "Great name, I  _know_. Look, the reason why I'm here is because I need travel papers." He had one clue after all, and if Jack was going to improvise, then so was he. "And I'm going to take a guess and say that  _you're_  Dimitri." To that, Jack nodded. "They say you're the man to see—even though I can't tell you who said that." Not that he could, anyways.

Strange. But they were on the right track at least; and if Jack had to take a guess, a little old lady led the lost princess here. The Guardian exaggerated an assessing look at the teen and started circling; wherever Hiccup had been, it certainly hadn't been kind to him. "Hmm…"

If Hiccup was wary before, he was annoyed now. "Right and—and I really don't like that look in your eye—uh-hey, any reason why you're circling around like I'm fresh kill?"

Hiccup had mentioned an orphanage; that could explain the attire. It was so baggy, Jack had almost mistaken him for a girl in the first place. A crude little voice in his head whispered, ' _Hoping for a dainty dress?'_ but Jack thoroughly ignored it. "I'm sor...I'm sorry Enya, was it?"

"It's An— _just_  Hiccup." To make it easier for the rest of them.

Jack snickered, ignoring the flat stare he received from the other boy. " _Hiccup_ , it's just...just that you look an awful lot like…" He gestured vaguely at the painting, watching for Vlad's reaction, but pulled away at the last minute; gotta make this convincing, after all. "Never mind...Now, you said something about travel papers?"

"Uh, yeah...I'd like to go to France." ' _Or at least that's where the angry old lady said I wanted to go._ '

Jack raised a brow; man, even for a fairy tale, this was just too perfect. "You'd like to go to  _France_?"

The brunet nodded. "Yeah. Paris, to be exact."

Jack gave Vlad a knowing look. The effect was ruined, however, when the man caught sight of the little beast by Hiccup's legs. "Oh, who is this here?" he cooed. Hiccup held back a laugh as his best friend glared up at him; the boy shrugged. A little put off, but knowing it was for the greater good, Toothless bound up to the large man, playfully bunting him as Vlad made more of those strange noises. "Oh, oh, he _likes_  me!"

"Nice…" Jack began, followed by a not-so-subtle cough. " _Dog_." And the Russian continued his coddling, oblivious to the shared look of distrust between the dragon and the Guardian as the latter approached the former's Viking.

"Let me ask you something…Hiccup, was it? Is there a last name that goes with that?" Not that Dimitri really needed it.

Hiccup gave a nervous laugh. "Well, actually—uh, is going to sound just a little crazy—" ' _Not like we're new to that anyways…_ ' he mentally supplied, "but as far as I know… years ago, I came to the…' _orphanage'_  without a single clue as to who I was."

Interesting. And before Jack could stop himself, he heard his own voice ask, "And before that— _nothing_?"

There was a strangely defensive glare in those fiery green eyes. "Look, I know it's strange but I can  _honestly_  say: I don't remember. I have…very few memories of what happened."

Jack sighed. "Tell me about it…" It was for a split-second, but a look of commiseration passed between the two.

"Well, I do have one clue, however, and that is  _Paris_." He tugged at the chain for emphasis. Emphasis and because it acted as both a hint to Jack and a sentimental reason for Vlad; at Jack's angle, he couldn't very well see, but Hiccup caught the suspecting glances being thrown at him from the older man. If the Russian could act… then so could he.

"Your clue is  _Paris_?" Well, this was coming along swimmingly—as far as the last two fairytales were concerned, Jack surmised.

Hiccup nodded, a sigh of relief passing through his lips. "Right. So, can you two help me out or…?"

"Ah, sure, we'd love to!" Jack wasn't sure if his faux enthusiasm was striking the right notes, but at least he was playing a conman's role well enough for the lines to keep running. "In fact, oddly enough, we're going to Paris ourselves!"

"Oh,  _what_  a coincidence…" Hiccup gave a forced smile at that;  _right_. Coincidence. Like this entire journey hasn't been a celestial catastrophe since the beginning.

With a subtle elbow to Vlad's side, the Russian hastily plucked the tickets from his pocket. That being said, the tickets in mention are for the Moscow Circus. Not that Hiccup needed to know that. Vlad handed them to Jack anyways and the poor lead actor stifled a cringe.

"I've got tickets here—" And with one look at Hiccup, the Guardian can definitely tell that the boy isn't buying it. Especially when he noticed a ticket too many. "Ah—well this one is…" He coughed as he fumbled with them, opting the shrewd manner of simply tossing the extra ticket to the side. The feeling of strikhedonia was one he knew all too well. "Right, haha… _three_  tickets to Paris…"

The Viking remained unimpressed…but as far as their omnipotent audience was concerned, they were meeting whatever standards the sadistic being desired. So, while skeptical but still willing to drag this play along, he hummed expectantly at the duo. "Uhuh…that's great…but what's the catch?"

"Well…here's the thing: unfortunately the third one is for her…" Jack gave a sweeping gesture to introduce the brunet to the youngest female in the Romanov lineage, a delicately postured but and vibrant maiden, the depiction's royal eyes alight with innocence and imperial grace. "Princess Anastasia."

Hiccup swallowed, his gaze darting away from the magnificent figure. "Is that right…"

Not sure whether to be grateful for the distraction or severely annoyed by the intrusion of personal space, the two men take (read: heft) Hiccup by the arms, dragging him to a portrait of the Dowager Empress, Marie Feodorovna.

"We are going to reunite the Grand Duchess Anastasia with her grandmother," Vladimir declared, not without an air of noble duty honeying his words.

"You do kind of resemble her," Jack slyly commented.

And Vlad picked up on the hint. "The same blue eyes—" Hiccup raised a brow; Jack stifled a grin.

"—the  _Romanov_  eyes," the Guardian helpfully supplied.

"— and Nicholas' smile—"  _When_  did Hiccup smile at them?

"—Alexandra's chin—" Hiccup should have known to run when the larger man started commenting on his  _smile_ , but he was just ready to bolt when Jack caressed his face.

Too bad before he could even break out of their grip, Vladimir took his palm for inspection.

"Oh, look she even has the grandmother's hands!" Hiccup wasn't sure whether or not he was offended; years of working under Gobber's apprenticeship, nearly a decade of craftsmanship and innovative engineering, surviving dragon-fire and his own minor-adjustment-requiring contraptions—and his hands were being compared to the delicate palms and prettily adorned fingers of a pampered royal. He honestly was torn.

Nevertheless, the auburn gave a swift yank and broke out of their grip, stumbling a bit to gain distance between them.

That obnoxious grin was back on Jack's face and so resurfaced that uncharacteristic urge to signal Toothless a plasma blast. Directed at Jack's face. Especially when the other teen spoke again: "Seems too good to be a coincidence, huh?"

"Ja— _Dimitri_ … ", the boy amended. "Is this your very  _obvious_  and  _very_  unconvincing way of trying to tell me that you think that I'm this… _Anastasia_?

"All I'm trying to tell you is that I've seen thousands of girls all over the country," Jack was vaguely aware that Hiccup had his brow raised and a deadpan look on his face at the statement, but it was  _far_  too late to backtrack. " _Ahahaha_ …a-and not one of them looks as much like the Grand Duchess as you do. I mean look at the portrait!"

Jack really had to applaud his own acting skills then: glaring green eyes, a marring frown, and freckles dusted across his cheeks appeared close to nothing to the young, delicate princess painted on the wall. ' _Still, the former wasn't without his own charm.'_ It was a good thing that Jack was adept at ignoring niggling thoughts like that.

Looks like Hiccup knew that too, judging from the budding annoyance he wore. ' _I was kinda hoping that this whole 'princess' nonsense would end_.' The Viking scoffed, but again…it wasn't really Jack's fault. Still. "I knew you were delusional from the beginning…and oh look, crazy-town's got a population of two now." They were putting on a show, right? Well, they might as well make this believable. " _Yeah_ , no thanks."

And so began the dramatized 'walk out.'

The Guardian raised a brow; was it just him, or was Hiccup  _enjoying_  this role? "Why? C'mon, you don't remember what happened to you…"

"No one knows what happened to her," Vlad added.

Jack liked working with this guy. "You're looking for family in Paris—"

"—and her only family is  _in_  Paris." Quite a solid team they made.

"Ever thought about the…possibility?" Jack threw him an expectant glance.

Hiccup rolled his eyes. "What, that  _I_  could be royalty?" Against himself, he gave a grim smile; he wasn't exactly a prince, but as the chief's son, he supposed that was about as close to a noble birth as one could get in Berk.

" _Mmmhmm_ …" Okay, so maybe it was a bit odd that Jack (or was it Dimitri?) and Vlad were so in sync. They even nodded their heads in unison.

Hiccup frowned, eyes tracing the magnificent detail and affluence painted on the still figures. "Well I don't know, it's kind of hard to think of yourself as a royal when waking up from the winter cold on a damp floor." It was true; this was about as far as he had fallen from his royal demotion from princess, to a noble's servant, and now to a nameless orphan. Still, Hiccup shrugged. "But sure, yeah, I guess everyone would hope to turn out to be more than who they originally thought they were…" He certainly did. Green eyes glanced up at her, this  _lost princess_. Impossible, possible—after everything, did he even know the meaning of those words?

Hiccup sure took his sweet time staring at the frieze; made for a convincing-enough air of contemplation in Jack's eyes. The Winter Spirit gave a careless shrug and offered Vlad a go at it.

The man did not disappoint. "And somewhere…One little girl is." He put a gentle hand on Hiccup's shoulder. "After all, the name Anastasia means ' _she_   _will_   _rise_   _again'_."

Or maybe he did. Hiccup merely gave a noncommittal hum, eyes still pulled to the faces of lives perished long ago. Beside him, Toothless gave an apprehensive whine.

Vlad looked back to his partner in confusion; perhaps it would take a bit more convincing to allow the young woman into their schemes. "Why don't we tell her about our brilliant plan?"

A very insistent part of Jack screeched  _"No,"_ at that. For what reason, he himself was not sure, but he gave a response to Vladimir anyways. "Because, h—  _she_  may not take too well to being used as someone's pawn…" Despite that not truly being the case, Jack couldn't help but to feel as though he stumbled on another factor to take into account regarding their situation. ' _It doesn't feel right…using him; if this were a fairy tale, that'd make us the bad guys, right? But he and I—_ ' Jack shook the thought out of his head, a faint pink glow resting on his cheeks. Just because it happened the last two times doesn't mean that's how it'll always turn out. Hiccup  _just might be_  their princess. That doesn't always mean that Jack would be the prince he needed. The Guardian gave a sigh and turned to the brunet, seemingly lost in his own little world…or very convincingly waiting for them to persuade him in return.  _'…He might be pissed if he learned we were lying, but maybe he already knows it's a lie…maybe it's not a lie after all…I'll talk to him and straighten it out eventually,_ ' Jack silently promised. Out loud, a thought slipped past, maybe for Vlad to hear or maybe not: "Besides, who knows what Hiccup's been through?" But Jack already knew the answer to that: they've been together since the beginning of this, after all.

Gently, the brunet reached out to trace the detailed lines of the figure; hues of gold and red muted by the silvery shroud of moonbeams make for an aged visage, life stolen by the shrouds of night and the lull of history. His head was spinning again and something like a thought, a word, a  _name,_ a face, a  _memory_ was surfacing from the inky depths of his subconscious. He stared into their faces—the Tsar, the Empress, the Princesses and Prince, and even his beloved Joy. Something pulsed in the boy's chest then—an aching heart and a searing longing echoing in its sad metronome.

A tug at his dress shot him back to earth (not  _his_  earth, but the very earth where he stood, at least). He looked down to Toothless, heart hammering in his chest and breathed a silent thank you to his best friend.

He needed to get out of here. "Fine. Fine, whatever,  _fine_." He needed to get out of there  _now._ "Ja— _Dimitri_!"

_That_  cued Jack's obnoxious smirk.

"Ha, right in the palm of our hand!" Vlad crowed.

The Guardian turned, noting the oddly urgent gleam in those green eyes. Still, he played coy, if only for their game—err…Vlad's sake. "You called?"

"Ugh, look, if I don't remember who I am, then who's to say I'm not this princess, or duchess, or whatever she is...Right?" Hiccup exhaled the sentence in one steady stream; he then took a deep breath to refill his lungs. "I mean, neither of us can know for sure!"

"Hmm...Go on," Jack replied.

"Yeah, and if I'm  _not_  Anastasia, the Empress will definitely know right away and it'll all just an  _honest_  mistake." ' _Can't possibly get in any trouble because of that…_ ' But it's hard to say with Hiccup's infamous (mis)fortune.

A smirk and a nod were given in return, as if giving the logic a quick once-over. "Sounds reasonable."

"But if you  _are_  the princess, then you'll finally know who you are and have your family back!" Vlad was really selling this one.

"You know, he has a point! Either way, it gets us to Paris," the Winter Spirit pointed out.

Inhale. Exhale. Focus on that. "I guess so. So, do we have a deal?" Jack, ever the diplomat, stuck his hand out in confirmation. Hiccup, knowing that he might've just put his signature on a Faustian bargain, shook on it. Faustian or no, a chief (to be) has to be certain (' _Dad always said that—don't forget, a chief thinks things through and a chief doesn't back out_ ), and in believing so, might've gripped just a smidge too tight.

At least from how the other's ice-blue eyes popped out and face twisted to an expression of excruciating pain. "A- _ahh_  oww  _ow_ …" As well as the tell-tale pop of the other boy's finger as well. "That's uh…quite a grip you got there, Hiccup…" Jack winced.

Hiccup shrugged, not entirely apologetic. "I think you were probably wrong about the, ah, ' _grandmother's hands_ ,' then."

.

Ghosts oft lingered in sites of harrowing tragedies; shadows that painted the walls in the darkest of nights or in the brightest shades of blood revisited the echoes of the past, never truly fading, and instead leaves its mark on the very soil it rests. One can feel it in the air—a tad too chilly, a bit too stifling, and the unshaken sensation of a disturbance (whether yourself or the unseen company that you keep). It also rests in the unsettling feeling of eyes watching—simply  _watching—_  your every move. It is the suspense that adds a tinge of fear to the mere apprehension one usually suffers; it is the enigmatic purpose of those eyes and the possibility of what else is attached to them…and what they might do…that drives this fear.

"May I present: her Royal Highness, the Grand Duchess _Anastasia."_

The declamation itself stir the demons of long past, something ancient, something  _vile_ , something  _unworldly_  swirling among the dust and dead collected within the palace ruins.

As two figures below mock a bow to the third, a single word, " _Anastasia,"_ reverberates throughout the foyer. Even the tapestries shudder in response, the single word a  _curse_ , demise written by destiny itself to the ears of the long-forgotten. And the manor is alive—or something in between— a breath tremors and moans in the Catherine Palace. Even as bickering and bantering voices fill the space in between, the gaping silence restrains something  _alive_ (or  _something in between_ ).

"Well Bud, looks like we're going to Paris."

"Uh—is the 'dog' even allowed on the train?"

_Something wicked, something unspoken, something banished from waking thoughts only to thrive in writhing night terrors—awake, alive, dreaming, dead, and_ _**never existing to begin with** _ _—_

"What are you talking about, of course Toothless goes."

"Does he  _really_  have to go?"

"All or nothing."

"Well, he doesn't like me."

"Probably for a good reason."

"Well then I don't like him!"

" _Real_ mature."

_it curls itself in phantoms along the walls and frees itself into the darkness, a sickly pallor of_ _ **greed**_ _and_ _ **envy**_ _warped by consuming_ _ **wrath**_   _as a satire of light and a brother of hellfire._

"Come, my young friends; we've got a train to catch!"

Ominously, the shrieking of a bat resonated in the blackening night.

.

"You've never been on a train before?"

There's something in the astonishment, unabashed in its clarity, in Jack's voice that made the confession jolt a thought in Hiccup's mind. "Never even  _heard_  of a train before." And that was that he and Jack came from two  _very_ different worlds.

And not even in a figurative way.

"You've  _got_  to be kidding me! I—" And it was when he caught Hiccup marveling at the car's  _lights_ of all things, that made Jack stumble in his thoughts long enough for his reasoning to kick in. "You're serious…sooo very  _serious_. Okay. I guess…different worlds, huh?" And for some reason, maybe this circumstance should have a lot more…hilarious? He guessed? Because this was a guy with a  _dragon_ …and he was amazed by a fluorescent light bulb.

"Yeah…" But the reality was that the Viking moved his interests to peering out the train window as the wintry scenery sailed by with a look of silent wonder and honestly, it was one of the most endearing things the Guardian had ever seen.

But those thoughts weren't really good to have right now. So he shoved them aside and coughed, as though to expel the possibility of Hiccup somehow hearing his musings. "How different are we talking?"

"Well…if any of the villagers saw an iron serpent moving through the land, they'd probably declare war and pull their swords on it." He wasn't exaggerating either. "Or you know…kill it with dragon fire." Attack first—question never: a true Viking's approach to life. Or so he was taught years before.

_Years. Had it been?_

"Ah…that different, huh?" The term ' _villagers'_  actually gave Jack more if an idea than the other bits. "Do…you wanna look around some more?" He chuckled at the shrewd glare he received; so the dragon-boy was self-conscious after all. "Hey, you're curious, aren't you? I might not know everything, but…"  _'You look worried earlier and like you could use a distraction.'_

And Hiccup had. When he and Vlad first brought Hiccup to the station, the sarcastic youth had fallen quiet. With the information provided not a minute ago, that should have been sufficient explanation, but now that Jack thought back on things, it occurred many times before—the sudden lapse of silence that had Jack more concerned than appreciative of the relief from the brunet's verbal onslaughts. Even his dragon was anxious, even fretful when a faraway look would appear in those green eyes, darkening to a strange glow that Jack  _really_  didn't like.

"Steam."

It wasn't Jack's most intelligible moment, but he went with the answer that came most naturally to him: "Huh?"

"And smoke," the auburn continued.

Jack gives him a weird look before trailing his eyes to where the other had them locked.

It was somewhat early in the morning; the clouds dampened the atmosphere, but compensated by creating a difficult distinction between sky and snow. The streams of smoky silver and scorched black streaking through the air were their only division. "The train. It uses steam…and judging by the smoke, they're burning…coal?" He looked back at the Guardian with curious and questioning eyes as the boy narrated. Jack nodded immediately and the other teen appeared pleased by the correct assumption. "And a lot of it."

"Well…the train uses a steam engine. And you're right—they are using coal." He wasn't all too familiar with train mechanics, but he had been around when they were first invented so yes, you could say the Guardian had been curious too. "Kinda crazy…but this gigantic 'metal snake' is being pulled along by water and fire."

An oversimplified explanation, to be sure, and Jack turned to Hiccup in assurance that the latter would be sending him a flat look, either unimpressed or demanding more. Instead, he received a subdued murmur of, "Doesn't everything…" and that same far-off look again. He watched as the auburn hummed, squinting as the lithe boy pressed against the window, trying to catch a glimpse at the trail of vapors. He turned away from the Guardian, continuing with a seemingly forced vigor that perished before reaching its peak. "Pressure from the steam moves it along…"  _Evasive_  was the first word to come to Jack's mind. Evasive and worrying. Especially after a second or two of silence, Hiccup suddenly said, "We should get going." And that was the strongest sentence Jack's heard the teen say that day.

"Are you sure?" Because they were alone now—Vlad was in their compartment with Toothless, the former working on (forging their) documents and the latter dodging the suspicious eyes of staff members after they made it very clear that no animals were allowed in the train.

"Positive." If only Hiccup's words were as sure as he looked. He send a sideways glance at Jack, mouth curled in a small frown. "What's with you?"

Jack retorted with a frown of his own. "I could ask you the same thing."

The boy wasn't very good at hiding things, that much was apparent. "I'm  _fine_." Jack gave him a B for effort. "I—…later."

"Huh?" the Guardian ever-so-eloquently and inimitably replied.

"We'll talk." The brunet said. "Later."

.

It was a bit worrying to know his boy was out there alone with the other not-human that smelled of harsh winters and forest trees, but it wasn't as though Toothless weren't in his own bind. Vladimir, or at least that was what his boy and the not-human called him, seemed to appreciate the dragon's restless state a little too much. Or, at least that was the impression the dragon had when the man tickled his belly with that ridiculous utensil seemingly stolen from some unfortunate fowl.

But the door opened not a second after that thought and Toothless crooned with delight at the sight of his best friend, safely returned to him by the not-human. It almost makes Toothless forgive him for the earlier misconducts the pale one had committed.

_Almost_ —until the not-human  _almost_ squashed him in his accursed miniature form.

A feral roar (an agitated growl) was enough to secure his territory. Hiccup barely raised a brow at the sharp jump from Jack that followed, eyes watching with stifled amusement as Toothless settled down comfortably on the opposite seat; of course the dragon would want a perch to keep an eye on his human charge.

Vladimir, ' _The_   _traitor,'_  Jack's mind supplied, snickered at the situation. The Guardian, on the other hand, sighed knowingly. "Great. The 'dog' gets the window seat." Still, Jack forced a smile, if only for his seatmate.

Not that it puts him in the Viking's good graces, judging by the response. "Wanna try taking it from him? Really, be my guest. I'd  _love_  to see how that turns out." Okay wow,  _rude._

And make no mistake, Jack had a comeback ready—oh yes he did. He was just sidetracked, is all; sidetracked at the brunet's uncharacteristic fiddling. Positioned between forefinger and thumb, round-and-about the pendant went in repeated intervals of clockwise, and then counter. Hiccup didn't  _fiddle_. The boy talked with his hands with sweeping and exaggerated movements that granted him quite a lot of personal space unless you wanted to get smacked from some haphazard gesticulation. His hands weren't confined, especially by a tiny trinket. It was…odd. So instead, the Guardian chose to comment: "Rather fidgety for a Grand Duchess, aren't ya?"

The movements slowed, but whether it was conscious or not, Jack wasn't sure. All he did know was a rather sharp tone was being employed right now. "And how exactly is it that you know how a Grand Duchess acts?"

So of course, Jack replied in kind. "I make it my business to know," he informed.

"Is that right?" Hiccup replied, mocking a pondering pose. "We'll you'll be the first to know when I need a second opinion."

"Ugh." He glanced at Vladimir and scowled when the man ducked behind another pamphlet. The dragon, much like his owner, was sending him a flat look. Jack sighed and turned to the other boy, catching a rather focused look in those green eyes as he stared at the passing scenery. "Look Hiccup, I'm just teasing, all right?" The auburn gave a short hum and nothing more, indicating he must've at least heard something, but was hardly paying any attention to the actual words.

"Jack…" Well now. That was a tone Hiccup never used on him before.

"Mhm?"

"Do you really think I'm royalty?" What was with the kid acting so coy all of a sudden?

Roll with it, the Guardian supposed as he retorted, exaggerating the tone: "You  _know_  I do." What followed, if Jack were a complete cliché, would have been described as a hitch in his breath when he looked back at Hiccup—the other boy, eyes alight with sharp and vivid viridian, head held evenly to meet his gaze with a cold intensity, posture straight and stance demanding obedience—but it was probably more accurate to say that Jack choked on his own breath.

" _Then you best learn not to challenge me."_ Was that a sneer? Did Hiccup just  _sneer_  at him? Well, he should have known…

Still engrossed in his papers, Vlad chanced a chuckle. "Well, she certainly has a mind of her own."

The elder boy scoffed. "Yeah, I hate that in a woman…" But despite the smirk on his face, his stomach dropped uneasily at the blank response that followed. A look to his right revealed Hiccup's reflection on the frosty glass, conflict and confusion roiling in his eyes while his fingers turned the pendant in his grip. Softly sighing, Jack reached out and took his hand, startling the other boy. He gave a soft squeeze and perhaps a moment later, he received one back.

Still, Hiccup remained silent; whether enraged by careless words or enraptured by thoughts Jack couldn't read, the Guardian didn't know.

.

They were alone again.

Vlad had stalked off some time ago to stretch his legs. The man had eyed the two and casually warned them not to maim one-another while he was gone. The conversation died down shortly after whatever proverbial (and verbal) line Jack had apparently crossed. Funny thing was that when Jack toed past that line, Hiccup would just shove him back with a smart-mouthed retaliation. Now? All that met him was a tense silence.

Well, if they were going to get through this, it was about time Hiccup answered a few questions. Yes, unfortunately, the situation called for some manly confrontations, starting with demanding what the hell happened earlier. Jack cleared his throat to begin the barrage: "Look…did something happen? I'm kinda worried and I'm not gonna lie: you're freaking me out. I mean, you're not usually like this. So what's bugging you? You…you know you can tell me anything, right?"

… _Right_. Confrontations should start out with gentle coaxing anyways. And who said this wasn't manly?

It was an apprehensive moment before Hiccup frowned. "Well, some lunatic and his friend decided yesterday that I looked very much like a, oh get this,  _Princess_ —"

" _Grand_   _Duchess_ ," Jack corrected.

"—and thought it'd also be a  _fantastic_  idea to put me in this iron death-trap slithering to someplace where I'm probably going to get stuffed into  _yet another_  dress." Hiccup paused. "And said lunatic is smiling at me for some unfathomable reason."

Was Jack grinning? He hardly noticed. "You're sassing like you always do; I see that as a good thing."

It was the lights—err, the room. Yes. Hiccup's cheeks were just the normal temperature, thank you very much. "Do I really need to stress the  _lunatic_  part?"

"If that isn't the pot calling the kettle black." Jack sighed, not at all knowing how to deal with Hiccup's weird mood swings. "I know that this is a lot to take in. From…what you told me, you're  _definitely_  out of your element here." He paused. "We both are. But like it or not, we're in this together, you know?"  _Friendship_  and  _Teamwork_ …those were the things he learned as a Guardian—more or less on the job. And as  _utterly_  cheesy as it sounded (and he'd rather chug North's weight in eggnog before he admitted this), those two things usually dragged him out of whatever mess he landed himself in. Right now, though? It looked like it would take that…and a few miracles along the way. Still, "If you wanna ask questions—"

"That's really kind of you…and I'm sorry for snapping earlier. You should already know this, but my mouth tends to run itself when something's…yeah…but—" Hiccup took a quavering breath and in that instant, the whole world paused. "That's not it."

Toothless stirred from his sleep, appearing to sense his rider's distress or time's disrupt. The dragon nimbly leaped across the seat to Hiccup's lap, bleating softly to his best friend. He could feel the tremor in his human's voice, meaning he was either afraid, nervous, or both. But this was a strange one; after the night before, things had become very strange.

Green eyes clouded at the memory. "Last night…when you guys found me…something really weird happened moments before that."

"I'm listening." And Jack was. Despite how creepy the atmosphere suddenly turned. Oh he remembered last night, all right. Despite his run-ins with the Nightmare King himself prior to his Guardianship, Jack wasn't immune to the effects of the eerie circumstance: an abandoned palace rotting from the inside out, a sudden intruder, and finding a mysterious figure bathed in moonlight, the portraits about the room like wordless witnesses or solemn graves. He could still feel the heavy gaze of the late Romanov family from across the ballroom, challenging him to come closer.

Hiccup continued to stroke the smooth black scales, the familiar sensation a soothing balm to his muddled mind. But even as Hiccup sorted the thoughts in his head, it wasn't as if he had a lot of problems in saying what needed to be said. "To say that I wasn't myself that night….would be a  _huge_  understatement." He gave a self-depreciating chuckle before he grew silent and Jack grew worried. "I…saw…no, did I really see them? I…it's weird. B-but…I saw, or at least I think I saw…a  _memory_."

"A…memory?" Jack parroted.

Hiccup frowned; crazy reality-crashing aside, that definitely sounded weird. "I don't know how else to describe it. It was like…I was dreaming the whole time, and for a second, I thought I was. First I was looking at that painting—the one with the royal family—and then…all of a sudden I couldn't think straight and—"

' _Dancing_ ,' Toothless added with muffled growl.

"Yeah…dancing. I…saw people dancing." Hiccup spoke as though the wind was knocked right out of him. "And it was the weirdest thing ever because for a second….everything was like new and…it was beautiful. There was laughter and music and, and…a  _song_."

"A song?" Jack really needed to stop with the one-liners. Especially if all he was going to do was echo the last two words Hiccup already stressed.

Still, Hiccup gave the guy credit for following along. "Yeah…someone was singing to me." He paused, unsure, but spoke anyways. "And…they wanted me to dance along…"

And that was the end of the explanation. There were a lot of things that Hiccup could have— _should_   _have_ —mentioned. Like how he felt so at  _comfortable_  and  _safe_  and dare he say  _loved_  when those fleeting images in his head pulled the muscles in his body to sway to a dream's rhythm. Like how those feelings smothered his heart and blanketed his mind with frightening affection and—just as those illusions dissipated with the night air—left him more alone and full of longing, more than he had ever felt before. It was terrifying,  _madness_ , and had it not been for Toothless, he might've been content to dance with those phantoms for an eternity because  _something_  about that place drew him in and consumed his every form of reason. Because that place meant  _something_  and did  _something_  to make his— _Anya's_ —heart yearn. It felt like home and his whole being ached to return.

But there was nothing there. Nothing left but dust and memories. And that's how it should have been buried in Hiccup's mind.

Besides…Anya was not Hiccup. And maybe the most frightening part of it all? He had to remind himself one-too-many times of that fact.

He was Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third—Hope and Heir of Berk. His father's lessons, Gobber's teachings, and his own stubbornness to take what was useful and ignore everything else…he needed to remember those things as well.

"Wow…" Jack whistled. His tensed as a serious expression took hold. "…Well I hope you at least warned them about your metal foot."

There was a flash of pure affront in violent greens and the Guardian braced himself as he internally berated why he even thought that was worth a shot. " _You_ —"

And to Jack's utter amazement, the excruciating pain he was expecting to follow never came. Instead, it was the other boy's laughter that reached his ears, not the sickening squelch of iron meeting tender flesh, trickling like a stream before erupting to full-blown laughter. Now he was  _really_  worried for the kid. But all the same—he was a Guardian of  _Fun._ And seeing Hiccup laughing (even if it was at his expense) was a  _good_ thing. Even if the boy's dragon was looking at them funny.

Hiccup was caught between chortling and glaring hopelessly at him; the latter wasn't really going in Hiccup's favor. "You either have really awful timing for your jokes…or you still can't let that 'waltzing' thing go."

Jack breathed a sigh of relief. "I wanna go with the second."  _'But I've been told the former quite a few times too.'_

Hiccup made a face. "Oh don't be a baby." Wow, he never expected to be the one giving  _that_  spiel. "The bruises are gone, aren't they?"

" _Not_  the mental scarring," the Guardian retorted, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. But that was soon gone as well. He looked back at the other boy, uneasiness in his eyes. "But getting back to your uhm…predicament." Because wow he really didn't know what to say to the kid. "You said it was a memory, right?"

Hiccup gave a nod, a lot less on edge than he had before. "It definitely felt like one."

Toothiana certainly would have been of great help in that department. Or maybe even Pitch, with his ability to conjure illusions… Jack scoffed. Not that Pitch could stand to be useful in any situation. It was interesting to note, however, the degree of its effects on the other boy. Hiccup was still obviously distressed about the whole thing… "What brought you back?" That was next best thing to know; if Jack couldn't stop those episodes from happening, he could at least snap the auburn back to reality. Well…this reality, anyways.

For the smallest second, the hand petting the dragon froze. "I guess Toothless did." He gave a wan smile to his best friend; maybe it wasn't the whole truth, but seeing his best friend fretting over him with that chastising look cleared up the fog in his head. "Before you guys showed up, he was there beside me and I guess that helped me wake up."

The Guardian nodded; the dragon did have his uses after all. "Good thing too…if I saw you dancing the night away with some ghost from the past, I would've been jealous."

Hiccup snorted. "Hey, who knows? Maybe you won't always be my prince."

True, that might be a possibility, but Jack would like to see Hiccup's catastrophic attempts at seducing a real prince. Well…on second thought, that might not be such a lovely idea. "After all the times we've been through together!" Jack sniffled, ducking his head to hide a grin at Hiccup's sharp laugh. After all, if Hiccup did find another prince, how would that affect their attempts in getting back home?

"The heart does go on, Jack," Hiccup pointed out.

Jack feigned a dramatic swoon. "Oh Rose, how could you?"

"Rose?"

"Oh right…you've never seen—whatever, just know that the reference I made was comedy gold," Jack fitfully informed.

Because if Jack wasn't Hiccup's 'prince' this time…would that mean that they'd separate after 'Happily Ever After'? Would that mean Hiccup goes home and leaves Jack to trudge on alone until his rightful end? Or vice-versa? There were too many things to think about at this point…but all Jack knew was that time marched forward, meaning that they must be doing something right.

(Right?)

It was better to hope that wherever they were headed to and whatever fate flung at them down the road, it would lead them back home.

Because Home is exactly where Jack needs to be. He looked to the snowy scape and a pang of nostalgia thundered in his chest. If this was the past…did he make this? Is he out there right now, flying through the winds, blissful (or in denial of the constant isolation) and ignorant of who he was and who he'd become? The winter frost, the peals of laughter from innocent souls, and that spark of happiness that merrily made itself a place in the hearts of children…all that made him a Guardian. Because this was his season. It was his center and like hell he was going to miss out on doing what he did best. He had to get home and soon.

That and it was a bit strange how shoes were starting to become comfortable to him.

Hiccup snickered. "If you say so."

Jack looked to the other boy and wondered what he was coming home to…coming home for. "Sorry…by the way. I don't really know what to make of what happened back there in the palace."

The auburn shrugged. "It's okay. I couldn't either and I've been trying to wrap my head around it last night and all morning." Ah…so that's what got his skivvies in a twist. It might've been a trick of the light, but Jack was pretty dang sure the kid was flushing slightly when he self-consciously added, "Right next to figuring out the mechanics of this gigantic contraption."

"Well…if it'll make you feel better, we can take another look around the train; maybe we can even find someone to explain how this chunk of metal can chug its way up a mountain." Anything to keep the kid's mind off what happened earlier. He was the Guardian of fun, right? He should be capable of doing at least that.

The brunet gave a smile. "If you're offering…"

_Weird_. Jack's stomach did a  _weird_  flip when Hiccup looked back at him, eyes bright. Or maybe it was because the train started moving again, causing Jack to lurch forward.

Impeccable timing, dear ol' Vlad seemed to have. The door slid open as Hiccup stood; the Viking placed Toothless on his seat, murmuring a quiet apology to his friend, but if he translated the quiet croon he received in return correctly, his buddy would be okay.

Either that, or he wanted Hiccup to bring him back some fish. He'd work on his Dragonese some other time…

The brunet shuffled a bit, stopping Vlad from closing the door. "Oh, we were just leaving."

The man raised a brow at how relaxed Hiccup seemed to be in comparison to a few minutes ago…or rather, how eager she seemed to leave the room with Dimitri. He also didn't miss the small smile on his partner's face at the lady's brightened countenance. At that, the man gave a happy sigh and sat down to make room for Hiccup to take her leave, their Anastasia moving on ahead before Dimitri could step out of the compartment.

Jack followed, but not without catching Vlad usher these conspiring words to Toothless: "Oh no...An unspoken attraction!"

At that, Jack had to halt in his tracks. Despite valiant efforts, he ended up sputtering anyways. "A- _Attraction_? To that talking  _fishbone_? Have you lost your mind?"

The older man shook his head, quite glad that his partner's words were only violently  _whispered_. "I was only making conversation…" He had a feeling Dimitri would be eating those words very soon.

Though red in the face, Jack was at least able to leave with a dignified, "With a ' _dog'_? …yeah, you've definitely lost it."

Vlad could only chuckle as Jack slid through the compartment door and sulked to wherever Hiccup wandered off to. For Jack, the insinuation burned, a bit more personally than he would have liked to admit. They were accomplices, commiserators, and on a good day, maybe even friends. That was it.

Attraction.  _Right_.

(Ridiculous.)

.

A burst of fire crashed through brittle trees; wicked servants, summoned by vengeance and promised a blackened soul, seek their target's demise. The control room seemed to be a good place to start. As they rocket beneath the train to the engine, they leave a wake of flames on the tracks behind them.

And make no mistake, beings of darkness have a certain attraction to  _heat_  and  _light_. That much is certain as claws and wings clamor onto the engine, a red glow like burning hatred seeping into the machine, rattling as if it might fall apart.

.

Plans, as Vladimir knows, had to be executed  _perfectly_  in order to produce the best results; haste cannot be afforded as that would lead to carelessness; carelessness carried to oversight, and ultimately, an _error_  is generated. An  _error_ could manifest in many ways—for better or for worse. It is almost always the latter. Because although to err is human, to err could also wrought disaster. His old job taught him that.

And Vladimir, believing himself to still uphold that painstaking discipline, took a moment or two to let the man's arbitrary comment sink in: "Last month, the traveling papers were blue but now, they're  _red_."

A very small part of him wanted to believe that his memory was mistaken, but that nice little fantasy collapsed as he took a gander at his own "papers."

Blue.

His papers…as well as Dimitri's and Hiccup's…were  _blue_.

дерьмо́.

"Papers! Papers, papers!" the guard called and before Vlad was even aware of it, his legs were carrying down the car and towards his companions. Even if he did accidentally bump past a woman " _How rude!"_ or very visibly fled from the conductor as the man demanded tickets.

The door hastily opened and Jack in turn was startled from his near-slumber. His eyes were bleary and he could barely make out the commotion outside, but what he was most aware of is Vladimir, shaking like a leaf and appearing as though some terrible thing were chasing him.

But instead, the man offered him this for an explanation as he held up the documents: "That's what I hate about this government— everything's in  _red_."

" _Red_?" Jack parroted, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A flicker of understanding flashes through his eyes and quite suddenly, things become a  _lot_ more complicated.

Vladimir is already taking charge of the situation as he hefted their luggage from the overhead compartment. "I propose we move to the baggage car— quickly, before the guards come!"

Jack groaned but lifted a suitcase or two in assistance. " _I_  propose we get off this train."

All the while Hiccup slept on, exhausted by recurring visions, engineering ingenuity, and tireless conversations with a certain frosty-haired boy. Even if his best friend was making a racket, toxic green eyes narrowing at the sight of unfamiliar creatures exuding a grim presence, the dreamless slumber persists.

Jack caught sight of the curled position the slumbering Viking had taken; he certainly didn't  _look_  comfortable, but he seemed to be sleeping soundly. Oh well, it wasn't like this was his doing. "Hiccup," he called, shaking the other boy's shoulder in hopes to rouse him. When his efforts yielded nothing more than an annoyed grunt, the Guardian drew closer and gave a harsher shove. "Hey!"

That was his first mistake. In reality, maybe Hiccup inherited more from his father than his tendency to ignore advice and his stubbornness (as well as the occasional colossal temper-tantrum). After all, the reflex to maim whoever disturbed a Haddock's slumber must fall into those impressive inherited traits.

Thankfully (though Jack didn't know it) he hadn't had to deal with the chief Haddock—so instead of a sharp blade to his face, he got a fist instead.

" _OW_!"

The noise was enough to stir the Viking and the first thing his eyes landed on is Jack, nearly sideways on the opposite seat, holding his nose with yet another expression of excruciating pain.

It took Hiccup three seconds to deduce what just happened. " _Oh sh—_ sorry! I thought you—"

"Were  _what_ , exactly?" the Guardian demanded. He sniffled, glad to at least find a lack of blood seeping from his abused face.

"I don't know! Hasn't anyone ever told you not to wake a sleeping Viking?"*

Toothless might've agreed that the other boy shouldn't have come closer; that, or the Night Fury just announced the arrival of something foreboding. Once again—Dragonese lessons.

Ignoring the throbbing at the center of his face, Jack picked up the remaining luggage and with the other hand, pulled Hiccup from the bench seat towards the compartment door.

"C'mon, we gotta go!"

Hiccup gave a short call to Toothless for him to follow before asking, "Where are we going?"

Vladimir was already heading down the corridor as Jack, Hiccup and Toothless exited the compartment. To Hiccup's bewilderment, Toothless scampered out the door, barking frantically, even passing the Russian in the distance.

Also to Hiccup's bewilderment, Jack whined, "I think you broke my nose!"

Hiccup stops, halfway slipping on his coat. "Really?"

Was it just Jack, or did Hiccup sound in awe?

' _Won't_   _Dad_   _be_   _proud_.' Hiccup somewhat deflated at the glare Jack threw in his direction. He cleared his throat. "I'm…sorry?" Jack merely pulled him along in fuming silence.

.

"Ah, yes, yes…this will do nicely." For Jack, anyways.

Already shivering, Vlad shot a vehement whisper to his accomplice, "She'll  _freeze_  in here!" A second later;  _"We'll_ freeze in here!"

Jack gave a halfhearted shrug. "You can both thaw in Paris." Being a Winter Spirit had its perks after all.

Hiccup wandered around the confines, noting the more interesting assortments of goods loaded in the tiny space. "The baggage car? Interesting choice of relocation…" He turned to Jack with a sharp smile. "There wouldn't be anything  _wrong_ , would there  _Dimitri_?

Jack appeared affronted. "Of course  _not_  Your Grace." Little shit. "It's just that I  _hate_  to see you forced to mingle with all those commoners."

"Mhm… _right_ , right." He passed by the Guardian distractedly, just close enough to murmur, "You know, if those papers were as genuine as your acting, it's no wonder we ended up here."

Whatever retort Jack swore he had in store for the brunet was went up in smoke as an earsplitting blast shook the car in its tracks.

.

Somehow, things seemed to turn out like this for Hiccup quite often. An explosion here, an eruption there…wildfire rampant in the woods behind Berk. Living with dragons made it almost impossible to escape fiery disasters like these.

Except now, his dragon was tiny and that detonation might've been enough to burn a whole house down.

Life and its consistencies, eh? Except life really didn't much practice with this part: him, thrown to the floor with a frosty-haired boy crushing the air out of his lungs and luggage—lots of it, burying them in a small mound.

"W-what was that?" Well, at least he knew Jack was alive.

"I don't know, but there goes the dining car," Vlad replied, a bit mournfully. Okay great; no casualties so far. Except that they were  _attached_ to the dining cart. Which meant that they were no longer attached to the other half of the train.

_Lovely._

And  _really_ it was. His first ride on a train, unexpectedly, might be his last. Well, call it a Viking's stubbornness issues, but Hiccup's not exactly going down without a fight. " _Ugh—_ Jack! Get off of me!" That is, if he could get up in the first place.

"I'm trying!" the Winter Spirit grunted. There was too much squirming, too much weight on his back, and Hiccup wasn't exactly the comfiest thing to use as a cushion. A very compromising and very uncomfortable position this turned out to be. "Ugh, you know, I would've thought something like this would be saved for the wedding night."

Hiccup felt his eye twitch in annoyance. "Your brand of humor isn't exactly desired right now!" Or ever, if the auburn were to be honest. Well, the joke renewed Hiccup's efforts to try to wriggle away from Jack, but just as he managed to free a leg—it in turn slammed into something of Jack's. "Uhm…oops?"

The resulting screech was actually quite impressive; it even consumed the chaos around them. Oh well. At least it wasn't his metal foot.

Vlad, some distance away, was lucky enough to escape such a fate; however, what he was witnessing didn't exactly count him so fortunate. From his position, the engine spouted sparks, fire raining down the boiling control room. "…Dimitri?" the man called.

" _What_?!" Jack hissed. Could the man not see he was doubled over in  _immense_ pain right now?

"I think someone has flambéed our engine," the man reported.

Oh  _brilliant_.

The ill-fated pair moved forward, catching sight of malfunctioning engine, spurting smoke and hissing flames.

Jack frowned, but instincts always took command in times like these, when the situation burned too hot to leave room for anything else. "Something's  _definitely_ not right. I'll go and look." He paused and looked straight at the Viking. "Wait here."

And before Hiccup could even  _think_ to retort, the Guardian made his way over the coal car and started climbing.

Vlad proves an impressive barrier when he attempted to follow, the Russian's eyes determined but softening with understanding. ' _What could you do?'_ So Hiccup just waited. Toothless stood by him as his heart started taking uncomfortable leaps when his eyes could no longer spot Jack's form over the other car.

.

In retrospect, maybe he shouldn't have been the one to leap out of the frying pan and into the fire. Jack grunted as he landed into the cockpit. After all, Hiccup was the one with the  _dragon_. He must be used to the heat.

Jack?

Well…it wasn't like he  _melted_ or anything. Nope, definitely  _not_  a fucking snowman.

But as Jack had to shield his face from the intense temperature, he figured there was a reason why he was meant to be the Guardian of  _Winter_ and not the Guardian of Overheating Engines in Runaway Trains. "Anybody here?" And nope, not a single soul replied. That both relieved him and made his pulse skyrocket: nobody was manning this thing.

It also didn't help that the pressure gauges were already pushing into the  _red_. Vlad was right—there were definite problems with that color. Not exactly knowing what to do, the Guardian spied what could be a break and well, anything was worth a shot at this point. He grabbed the lever and released it with a pained hiss. He examined the minor burns and groaned. Today was  _not_ his day.

Especially as  _green_  flames explodes into the skyward.

Jack wisely took that as his cue that  _now_  would be a good time to abandon ship; with that, he scrambled back towards the baggage car, all the while lamenting, "This has got to be some sick joke…first I had to  _kiss_  a guy in a dress, then I had to  _marry_  him, and now we're gonna  _die_  together?—"

A familiar voice cut through the air: " _You idiot!_  Get out of there!"

The Guardian gritted his teeth as he swung over the coals. "Oh  _hell_ no, that's where I draw the line."

.

Out the door, the landscape raced by them in a dizzying haze.

Hiccup turned to the man, yelling over the deafening noise. "We're going way too fast—It must be overheating!" The Viking sighed, more anxious than annoyed this time, and screamed in the direction of the control room. " _You idiot!_  Get out of there!" Beside him, Toothless shook his head; his human either meant that the pale one should get here quickly to escape bodily harm or his human was heartsick with worry and wanted the other not-boy to return. He needed to work on his Norse.

The real meaning didn't seem to matter; in record time, the pale one appeared, smeared with coal and slightly singed, but perfectly okay.

Jack wiped the sweat out of his brow, barely getting a second's rest before heading to the exposed face of the car. "Nobody's driving this train! We're gonna have to jump!"

With that determined proclamation, they all looked down—

—and the lovely sight that greeted them was that of a sheer cliff dropping into a frost-sprawled chasm below.

Hiccup blinked and presented the maw with a sweeping gesture. "Well, by all means— _after_   _you_."

"Fine, then." Of all the nights to lose his powers…Jack pressed his brain for more options. "We'll uncouple the car."

Rushing to the other side, Jack jumped onto the coupling, face falling at the sight of welded metal that he was  _sure_  was in separable pieces not too long ago. Nevertheless, he attempted to dismantle the connection, calling out, "Come on, I need a wrench, an axe—anything!"

Upon hearing the command, Vlad and Hiccup scoured desperately through the baggage compartment. The Russian is victorious in locating what he needed, but lagged in time as he struggled to pull the toolbox near the door.

And Toothless? Toothless felt a mounting fury at not being able to at least help. He cursed his small stature and not for the first time, hoped the other human and not-human were strong enough to keep his rider and best friend safe. But just in case, he figured that he might do his own scavenging as well— starting with that faintly familiar odor coming from over there…

Hiccup huffed, frustrated that he came up with nothing. He turned swiftly when his ears detected a familiar yelping some paces away in the baggage car. After pushing a few boxes away, he found Toothless jumping excitedly on a labeled box, reading: " _Danger_ :  _Explosives_."

The Viking gave a smile, making sure to scratch all of Toothless's pleasure spots in thanks. He also hoped Toothless had  _some_ fire left in him.

.  
"Here!" The Russian handed his partner a hammer and within seconds, the man is hammering away at the coupling. And it seems to be going well for a few moments—until the head snaps off. The hammer's. Not Dimitri's.

In frustration, he hurls the rest of the tool into the metal, ducking when it ricocheted and nearly smacked him in the face; lord knows he could only take so much bodily harm in one day. "Come on, there's gotta be something in there better than this!"

He sends thanks to his lucky stars as Hiccup handed him a stick of dynamite, fuse lit and ready to go. "That'll work." He's so grateful he doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's thoroughly impressed.

He shoved it into the coupling and within seconds, he's dragging Hiccup (Toothless in hand) and Vlad by the arm to the opposite end of the car and behind a pile of steamer trunks.

Sheltered and in-place, the trio ducked and braced for impact. Before the climactic crash however, Jack felt the need to voice this one tidbit of observation: "Why were there explosives in a baggage car?"

Neither of the two others could answer before the blast goes off.

.

When the smoke cleared, the front of car is scorched and demolished; debris whipped throughout the place and in the distance, the control car chugs madly along.

Jack knew, of course, that they'd make it out alive; still, that doesn't stop the oddly giddy feeling he gets like he wants to grab Hiccup by the face and kiss the daylights out of him—but he thoroughly ignores that, once more.

He also ignores the snide part of his brain telling him that they'd probably reach that part of the story later anyhow.

Taking the manual brake in his hand, Vlad gave wheel a swift yank; the rusted metal barely budged. "The brakes are out!"

"Turn harder!" he heard his partner say.

At his command, then. Oh…there goes the wheel…with a hapless look, he offered it to the man anyways.

Things don't seem to like going to plan, did they… when Jack got home, he'd be sure to pay a certain someone a very irate visit. "Don't worry—we've got plenty of track. We'll just come to a stop."

A flare of acidic green from a distance followed by a thundering crash made Jack defenestrate his thoughts and beg forgiveness.

Still, that didn't do much help as the trio stared, dumbstruck, on at what was left of the bridge ahead of them, a crumbling and disconnected structure.

"You were saying?" Hiccup sure knew how to lift a guy's spirits.

Jack shook his head. "You know, I'm  _really_  starting to think someone hates us."

Hiccup was starting to agree; then again, maybe that  _someone_  wanted a switch in hands at the reigns. He spotted the chain, loosened from holding down some cargo after the blast. He took a glance out to the tracks and started formulating. "Okay, my turn: I got an idea. Jack, give me a hand with this."

From a glance to his side, Vlad could feel his blood turning to ice at the sight of Hiccup by the open face of the car. "Wait,  _what_?" Vladimir was  _not_ okay with this. No harm should befall a lady, especially in these hazardous situations. "Hiccup—I don't think—!"

Thankfully,  _someone_ disagreed with him, as he lost his balance and fell into an empty crate.

And while Jack's attention was drawn to the sudden crash behind him, Hiccup took this as his opportunity to carefully edge his way out of the car. The Viking swallowed as he watched the ground race beneath him as he lowered himself underneath the carriage. "Hand me the chain!" He raised his hand to reach out for it and to indicate his whereabouts.

Jack held the chain not two inches from Hiccup's reaching fingers. "And what exactly do you think you're going to do with it?"

An auburn head peeked out of the undercarriage, dry humor masking the fatigue and hysteria. "Something crazy?"

The Guardian might've hid it with a shrug, but Hiccup definitely caught the confidence directed at him in those blue eyes. "Eh, that works too."

With the last bit of distance meeting his fingertips and metal, Hiccup grabbed the chain hooked it onto the undercarriage. Unfortunately, before Hiccup could even consider that a small victory, a sharp crunch resonates from the space and twisted steel from the front of the train flies back at him like shrapnel.

"Uh, a little assistance!" Not a second later, strong arms are lifting him back to the car, just as the metal whips by, shattering a tree.

Had both of them been complete clichés, it would have been described as meeting in a near embrace, their breath catching as some unnamed emotion stirred in the night air, and their eyes—locked on to one another—are mesmerized by the moment.

(Of course, they  _are_ complete clichés.)

Jack was the first to break the spell, glancing back to the crushed wood receding it the distance. "And to think, that could have been you."

Surprisingly, they don't release each other as if burned by the touch; Hiccup merely takes a few safe steps back and took a deep breath. "Well neither of us are dead yet." He looked to the other teen, a quiet look displacing the usual sharp wit. "Thanks, by the way. For trusting me."

The Guardian chuckled. "Well, you seem to know what you're doing."

Sometimes, Hiccup wondered about that. Little time had passed before all the arrangements were made; Vlad was freed from the crate, clutching Toothless for dear life, and all their belongings were nearby. All that was left was the final touch:

"Here goes nothing…" Hiccup sucked in a breath. "Brace yourselves."

At that, Jack threw the other end of the chain out the back; the grappling hook rebounded a few times before finally biting into a railroad tie, whipping taut. The tension created instantly pulls by the tie, then several more. After a few heart-stopping twangs of metal, one holds.

The car separates from the wheel base, turning sideways on the track, and plowing through the snow before slowing from the traction. It's terrifying, satisfying, and insane all at once. And to this, Hiccup had one thing to say: "Well, this is our stop!"

And they  _jump_.

.

Miraculously? No casualties.

They landed safely in a snow bank, their things half-buried in their ice-cold cushion, and when Hiccup does a mental head-count, he's pleased to see that no man (or dragon) was left behind. But once the adrenaline rushes out of his system, he feels weary and in desperate need of sleep. Still, there is a strangely  _victorious_  sensation that spreads from his chest. He ignores it to the best of his abilities in favor of grousing. "Ughhhhh for the record, I officially  _hate_  trains…" His expression, somehow, falls flat(ter) at the sight of the other teen. "…Are you  _seriously_  making a snow angel right now?"

At that, Jack picked up his head from the icy pillow. "What? We nearly died!" He settled in, making himself right at home with the winter weather. "Might as well enjoy life's simple pleasures when we can."

"It's all fun and snowfall for you, isn't it?" But there's a surprising lack of heat in his words. Probably because it was a better idea to conserve that heat for internal body temperature.

But Jack could only smile in return. "How'd you guess?"

.  
With spring came renewal—rebirth from the frosty ashes of winter and towards the warming sun and gentle blooms. Latvian mountains are dotted with greenery, peeking from the receding snow, picturesque and befitting the herald of new beginnings washing away an embittered past. Descending from the mountains, the air is crisp with the scent of budding blossoms and lingering winter breezes. It was enough to lift spirits, embolden the character, and even fan the flames of an unfading romance.

For others, it was a nice view to distract from the droning conversations.

"Are we going to  _walk_  to Paris?" For Jack, it was hard to tell whether Hiccup was being sarcastic or serious; perhaps both.

"We'll take a boat in Germany," Vlad dutifully informed.

"Oh. Then we're walking to Germany?"

Jack sighed. "No,  _Your_   _Grace_. We're taking a bus."

"Oh…a bus." The Guardian was only mildly surprised when the brunet approached him with a fevered whisper, "Jack, what's a  _bus_?"

.

"Sophie, my dear, Vlady's on his way!" It was only slightly unsettling to the Viking; the Russian seemed to content himself with prancing about, literally smelling the roses, as he happily traipsed in and out of his self-induced fantasies.

Either that or the man was  _really_ excited to see this  _Sophie._

And just because the Viking was somewhat certain the larger man was too entrenched in his wonderland to take notice, he had no problem asking, "What's a 'Sophie'?

Thankfully, the man was too lost in warm memories and giddy giggles to assess the way the question was phrased. "Sophie?  _Sophie_ …She's a tender little morsel—"

Jack coughed. "Vlad."

"—the cup of hot chocolate after a long walk in the snow—"

"Uh… Vlad?" Should Jack be worried?

"—She's a decadent pastry filled with whipped cream and laughter…" Yeah, Jack should be worried; someone shoot him in the foot if  _he_ ever started spouting off nonsense like that.

Hiccup found himself laughing. "Is Sophie a cream puff or something?"

"I'm pretty sure Sophie's a person," the Guardian replied. Pretty sure.

"She is the Empress's  _ravishing_  first cousin," Vlad elaborated with a happy hum.

Hiccup frowned. "Why are we going to see her cousin? Aren't we seeing the Empress herself?"

At that, Jack froze.

дерьмо́.

He never did get the chance to explain the whole plan to Hiccup.

" _Good_  question…haha, Vlad, do you have a  _good_  answer?" Jack stepped back and waved his hands in innocence—it wasn't like  _he_ planned this!

At that, the cheery atmosphere and rose-colored fantasies crashed down for the Russian. With an irate glare to Dimitri, Vlad started, "Well ah—ahaha…you see, dear child, to prove you are truly Anastasia, you must—"

"Convince her cousin…" Somehow Hiccup reaching the conclusion on his own didn't make things any better. Instead, the Viking clapped his hands together and backed away slowly. " _Well,_ it was fun meeting you all, but I'd have to take a pass on this one."

Not without sending Jack a hateful glare of course. Geez, what's with them? None of this was his direct doing. "Hey don't look at me, I didn't know either," he murmured. He flinched when Hiccup hauled him over to the clearing.

"Didn't you go over your plan with Vlad? I mean, a  _little_  bit of a warning would have been nice!" the brunet hissed.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Well  _excuse_ me, between waking up as a complete stranger in  _different time_  andalmost being blown to smithereens, we really didn't have time to sit down and chat about our master plan!"

There was an aggravated groan from the Viking. "But  _look_  at me, Jack! I am not exactly  _Grand_   _Duchess_  material here! I barely know anything about this world and you want me to  _prove_ to someone that I actually ruled a part of it?!"

"Well technically, only your mother and father would have," Jack corrected.

"Jack… _please_." Green eyes were flaring, a furious glint in them that not only spoke of exasperation—" _For once in your life_ , will you  _please_ take something seriously!"—but disappointment too.

The Guardian wasn't sure what pissed him off more; the fact that he'd been hearing  _that_ for centuries, or the fact that it seemed like he never learned.

.

Hiccup wasn't sure why, but the sight of water eased his spirits. He had been born and raised in Berk, just has his ancestors dating back 300 years. Before Toothless, all he could catch from the horizon was a never ending blue; it was a constant, despite shifts in tides and merciless storms that plagued their tiny island. The scent of salt, the spray of the ocean—

It was nothing like this stream. And all of a sudden, Hiccup was reminded just how alien this world was to him. He leaned against the bridge rails, noting with some effort, the impressive structure; it held together nicely, was even, and included a roof that shielded him from the distracting rays of sunlight. But it didn't ward off the company of others.

Vlad placed a hand on his shoulder, the other offering him a single red bloom. He directed the teen's gaze to the water, the surface glassy and reflective. "Tell me, child, what do you see?"

Hiccup supposed that this was around the time where the wise man gave his speech…but honestly, the Viking really wasn't feeling it. Still, he'd answer truthfully, if only to set this talk in motion: "I see a talking fishbone without a clue and without a plan." He wondered if it was truly an accident or not—dropping the offered flower into the stream. But Hiccup couldn't complain about the symbolism behind the act as the flora splashed and obscured the image in the water.

The man shook his head. "I see an  _engaging_  and  _fiery_  young woman…who on a number of occasions has shown a regal command equal to any royal in the world." At that, even Hiccup had to smile. Vlad turned the teen's gaze to his own. "And I have known my share of royalty. You see my dear, I was a member of the imperial Court.

"You were?" The Viking looked at the man—really looked—and could find no fault in his admission.

There was something melancholic in his eyes, something that spoke of hardship but also a solemn sympathy. "Yes my dear…I know this journey has been difficult for you, but the only thing I can assure you is that it is  _bound_  to get much worse."

The auburn gave a scathing laugh at that. "You started out pretty great with the whole 'comforting' thing, but I gotta say, you slipped at the end."

Thankfully, the man seemed to take the comment in stride, even chuckling. "I do not mean to frighten you, but self-discovery is a journey far more perilous than any expedition imaginable." Hiccup hummed, listening intently. "But trust me, my dear, when you stand there, before all that you've learned and with the knowledge that fate and choice have brought you to where you need to be— _home_  becomes someplace,  _someone_  you feel as though every moment since your first breath has lead you to."

" _Home_ …right." Hiccup sighed. "I need to find my way home." He needed to remind himself of that and that fact alone spoke volumes of just how conflict-clustered everything was.

"Home is where your heart is destined." Vlad stepped away, into the shade of the roof, leaving Hiccup with images spiraling through his thoughts in the reflection's wake—of shimmering lights and dazzling elegance…and of light snowfall and an impish grin. "With  _who_  your heart is destined."  _Weird._  Why did his heart skip a beat? "And it begins with taking the first step. You've come so far already, perhaps through blind fortune, perhaps through haphazard decisions—none of that matters and none of it can help you now. What matters is the path you take,  _here_ , in this moment."

Hiccup could see it then: Vladimir commanding an audience, artful in his words and persuasive in his tone, veering engagements left and right with a subtle gesture, an implication, a planted thought, and a righteous vernacular that smoothed conflicts or sparked them. A seasoned wordsmith, a verbal tactician…

"…you're right." But was he really? Still, Hiccup was swayed all the same, despite knowing this; despite the knowledge of how powerful and manipulative a silver tongue could be. The Viking couldn't be sure whether or not the words could be safely taken to heart. While they did resonate with him, there was still the matter of a persuasive force behind the older man's words that settled uneasily with him.

_A marionette with a playwright's painted scripts serving as its strings._

Green eyes followed the descent of a lone petal, dancing down gently to initiate the ripple in the water's surface, a tranquil veneer easily distorted by a simple vessel. Time and space—constant motion; was staying stagnant really the natural state? Or was it all chaos from the beginning to end. Never mind the parables and spiel of  _destiny_  and other intangible things, but  _constant_ and  _evolving_  motion with no set path. No lines, no plans, nothing but the actions and reactions,  _ceaseless_ and  _random._

That really sapped the romance out of the perspective, didn't it?

But not as much as Jack decidedly popping in, raised brow and expectant as he said, "So, are you ready to stop pouting?"

Vladimir shot the Guardian a warning look, and Jack can't help but feel affronted. "What?" His gaze wandered back to Hiccup, the smaller male crossing to the opposite end, yet keeping untouched from the other side. There might've been some existential metaphor hidden in that imagery, but despite himself, Jack found that he was a bit more worried than pensive of the other boy.  _'Besides, if anything, shouldn't I be mad at you?"_

But Hiccup didn't seem to hear him. Not even as Toothless bounded to the boy, the dragon no doubt sensing the turmoil turning in the auburn's head. A sighed escaped from Vlad, exasperated and blustery, and tried again. "There's nothing left for you back there my dear. Everything is in Paris."

And Jack knew this. He knew Hiccup knew this as well. Anything it took to continue onwards, right? But there was something in the way the other boy's shoulders dropped and something in his bones told him that this wasn't just about being prepped for etiquette.

"Hiccup…?" He gingerly approached the other, extending a hand. "You okay?"

When Jack gave an awkward pat on the Viking's shoulder, a violent tremor shot down the brunet's spine. Beside him, Toothless cooed in distress. A shuddered breath was all that was needed to give a hollow reply. "I…I'm fine. I just need to…remember." Hesitantly, he covered the boy's fingers with his own. Quietly, he murmured one of the few instructions they possessed. " _Do not deviate from the storyline…"_

Jack nodded. " _You must play your part, line by line."_

And just like that, Hiccup's lips twisted to a crooked grin, charmingly innocent with a sharpness about it that gave an underlying admonition to those who came too close with too-good intentions and too-invested emotions. "Well…there's no helping it I guess."

Naively sweet or ignorantly endearing, whatever that saccharine flavor was on Hiccup's expression—

Hiccup turned and faced his companions, eyes a  _glittering Romanov blue_. "Gentlemen, start your teaching."

—Jack  _didn't_  like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad ending is bad OTL
> 
> * = It's a danger to wake up Stoick the Vast. He nearly mauled his own son for his attempt. Vikings are always on guard, so why not Hiccup, haha~ Also, I'm sure at least a tiny portion of Hiccup glows when someone acknowledges a physical feat he performed (even if it is breaking an unsuspecting Guardian's nose).
> 
> Hiccup's also physically stronger than most people give him credit for. Sure, as a Viking, he is the runt and isn't as athletically capable as the other more robust characters, but from clips in the movie and show (especially the episode Thawfest), he's capable of physical acts that the average person, by today's standards, would find exceedingly difficult to do.
> 
> Steam-powered devices have been around for nearly 2000 years; they weren't considered efficient though until around the late 1600s with the patented steam engine. Hiccup might've learned of them nonetheless, from how he at least knew concepts of pressure in the 2nd movie.
> 
> And yeah. I pulled a Titanic reference. (And in doing so, a not-so-subtle "dead Jack" joke).
> 
> -this movie is a monster and I will die trying to finish this arc-


	6. Paris Holds the Key (to Your Heart)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. If you were hoping for an Anastasia trilogy, you are—sadly mistaken. Yes, this will be in four parts. But I'll try to get everything done.
> 
> Once again, many thanks to queenofyoursoda for being my beta for this arc as well as providing me with awesome feedback. I've gotten so many ideas from our wonderful talks and it really has been a great help to write this story. Also, a great thank you to hope-for-snow for your kind words of encouragement to keep this story going as well as providing me with some interesting ideas to try out.
> 
> This is the unbeta'd chapter. Please keep that in mind that some things may be subject to change.
> 
> Warning: Some vulgar language, further divergence from the Anastasia storyline by Fox Animation Studios (a division of 20th Century Fox Animation).
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but a laptop and certain plot elements.

* * *

It must have been a trick of the light. The tiniest lapse of detail that his conscious failed to reconstruct in his thoughts—a simple  _error_  in the recollection of that one fleeting moment before Hiccup strode right past him—a mere  _mistake_  he was entirely too transfixed upon that meant absolutely  _nothing_  and made absolutely  _no sense_. It was a clear afternoon, crystal skies and pristine lakes that mirrored their eternal blues somehow reflected back in Hiccup's eyes.

(You were born in a palace by the sea!)

 _Never mind the way he smiled—_ it's an act, it's always an act and do they really know what's real or not anymore with these wretched roles forced upon them, and think nothing of it, even when he knew that slightest quirk of his lips didn't belong to the face that had become so familiar—

(You rode horseback when you were only three!)

 _Never mind the way he spoke—_ sweetly and steadily, so sure and brimming with a quiet desperation, nothing at all like dry-toned drawls of cutting words and ruthless irritation, voice and gesture in synch but out of beat and tune to the rest of the world's rhythm, marching to their own tempo, no  _nothing_  quite like what he had gotten used to from the boy at all—

(You made faces and terrorized the cook!)

 _But it was an act_.

(But you'd behave when your father gave that look!)

It was an act, even as Hiccup walked with Vlad and continued to absorb the string of royal names and childhood memories that shouldn't be privy for those only seeking profit. It was an act, even as the dragon scampered past the Guardian and towards his best friend, barking in a way that only hailed from distress and terror like he had seen what the Guardian had (but that's  _crazy_  and  _impossible_  because Jack was just  _seeing things_  that weren't there). The midnight blur weaved between light footsteps, tail swishing frantically as the cries crescendo. Then toxic green eyes were on him, a plea for help or a demand to do  _something_.

(Your long-forgotten past!)

There was a call of Hiccup's name shortly afterwards. Jack vaguely recognized it as his own voice. For a single moment, the boy's movements stuttered.

(We've lots and lots to teach you and the time is going fast!)

What  _wasn't_  an act was an undignified yelp from the brunet followed by a cry of the Night Fury's name as the boy stumbled from avoiding the tiny body settled by his feet , tenor askew like several notes hitting off-key at once—unrehearsed, unscripted, improvised, and purely  _accidental,_ purely _authentic,_ and purely Hiccup. A light chastising from Vlad was immediately drowned by the other's laugh: it was fatigued, hysteria-ridden, berating, liberating, and almost sounded like a swallowed sob.

(If I can learn to do it! You can learn to do it! Pull yourself together)

And it was  _fine_. It really was. Toothless was there and now…now Hiccup was too.

(And you'll pull through it!)

Hiccup just shook his head like brushing off some absurd thought that grabbed hold of his mind that continued to whisper nonsense like the vexing coos of an unwanted lover that only spoke half-truths and candied (all too sweet and all too unfilling) promises. He was there, he was fine. He was okay. And from some distance away, he looked back at Jack for a second and offered a shaky smile, this one seeming to fit him in a way that the previous one didn't in that one-part awkward and other-part endearing way Hiccup's smiles naturally went.

(Tell yourself it's easy)

Still, Jack couldn't find himself to look at Hiccup's eyes for the rest of the day. He wasn't sure why, though.

(And it's true!)

Was it because he was afraid of what he'd see?

(You can learn to do it too!)

Or that he'd be useless to stop it?

.

The lessons were going rather smoothly. Well, from Jack's perspective that was. The next few days afforded them some time to allow Vlad to bestow his (disturbingly) vast knowledge of the Romanov line to Hiccup while hushed whispers and the occasional "freeze-frames" allowed Jack to sate the anachronistic Viking's curiosities of the 20th century era.

He could tell that towns—even the port town they were currently staying in while waiting for their ship—awed the auburn teen from the structures of buildings, to the cars that drove by, and even to the different services and landmarks available around each corner. Diners, factories, grocery stores, filling stations, parks and playgrounds, libraries (took quite a bit to pull Hiccup away from there) and even the dozens of shops lined up on Main Street that (on occasion) would steal the auburn's attention away from Vlad's constant assessment of Hiccup's piling collection of Anastasia-related trivia.

Honestly, he thought Hiccup was doing pretty well. Though Jack did have to wonder about how he knew about Count Sergei's cat…

Jack chuckled; Hiccup was full of surprises.

Said brunet looked up from the meal he had been poking to cast the Guardian a questioning look. But before Jack could even shrug or shake his head in response, Vlad demanded focus from the boy once more.

The Guardian resisted a sigh. Oh he knew the importance of Hiccup being well-versed in Anastasia's history. He knew that he should consider himself lucky that it wasn't  _him_  being drilled by the near-endless droning of fact after fact after fact. But that really didn't help his restlessness. Sure he had a hand in helping sometimes (The bicycle thing had been a challenge what with…the metal foot and all, but after a few improvisations [" _Ack—_ sorry! Oh c'mon that bruise doesn't…look… _too_  bad."], they managed to take off; thank  _goodness_  Hiccup didn't need much help with the horseback riding.) but that didn't exactly alleviate the ever-aggravating sense of feeling like a busted leg on a caterpillar.

Jack didn't like it. But it wasn't like he could do much anyways. Vlad was the Romanov-expert here and while the Guardian acted like some kind of Sherpa to the brunet, molding Hiccup to Anastasia's role took precedence.

"I'm heading out for a bit." His announcement was met with a double-take from Vlad and a pleading look from Hiccup to at least stay and share in his pain. He cast a sardonic smile to the pair. "I'll be back soon; don't worry." The Russian gave him a nod and resumed his recounting of Count Anatoly and his wart to the ever-unfortunate Hiccup, though not without a slight reprimand from Vlad about sitting up straight again.

Yeah, Jack felt bad for him. Not bad enough to stay though.

He really didn't have plans; just drifting on that fine morning. After three hundred years of it, the wanderlust never really left. You just get a bit of a heartache for home every once in a while, that's all.

(Or what you considered  _home_.)

In a way, Jack should have been ecstatic at finally having this opportunity handed to him—to be  _seen,_ to be among other people…but really? He wouldn't trade his Guardianship for anything. Which was why he needed to get home and home  _soon_. Which…was also why he didn't want to revel in this temporary mortality; it wasn't like he had long to have it. It would be a real shame if he got attached to this feeling, after all.

Jack shook the thoughts out of his head. They were pretty depressing…it was best not to dwell on them.

(Three hundred years of isolation taught him that some demons were off unfrequented.)

So that was all he really wanted; some fresh air, warmed by the oncoming season of rebirth (and  _hope,_ Bunnymund would have been sure to add) and the salty shores that blew the ocean winds over the town. It was a nice day as Jack exited the restaurant and began to stroll along the narrow sidewalks, a tune on his lips and his mind in a pleasant daze. His senses were muted under sunbeams and an entrancing air of peace, like drifting along a breeze without an inkling of direction.

(Call it  _improvisation_  or even  _intermission_.)

Honestly, he wasn't even  _looking_  for anything. It just…happened to catch his eye.

 _It_  being a  _dress_  displayed from a shop window. He might have stood there for a good three minutes or so, certainly not  _admiring_ the clothing, but more… _appraising_. It was a deep blue—tea length with a leather belt accenting the dress's casual form. It was fitted on the slender frame of a mannequin (though certainly not as lithe as the young auburn Jack had imagined it on), and though there were plenty of other dresses in the shop, Jack found he rather  _liked_  this one.

It was simple (charming).

It was practical (comfortable).

It was a lot better than what Hiccup had been forced to wear before (he probably wouldn't complain as much).

So why not?

Besides, they were bound to try and get Hiccup a new wardrobe sooner or later (likely to the boy's chagrin), just to impress Sophie and the Grand Duchess when it came time to cross that bridge. Why put up with the fuss and more of the other teen's scathing (if not hilarious) reactions if they could avoid that route altogether with this one hasty and haphazard decision? So yes,  _why not_.

And before Jack's sensibility kicked in, he was already walking into the store.

.

This was no big deal.

It was a ship. If there was anything Vikings knew about, it was  _ships_. His ancestors were brought to Berk on ships and they passed to Valhalla in them in blazing glory. The seas were to Vikings as the skies were to dragons; the same parallel applied with ships and wings. So in reality, there was nothing to fear; no  _huge_  deal at all when it came down to it because Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third was a _Viking_  through and through (minus the  _'wife with the ugly face'_  bit; he could forge the rest of the qualifications later) and a Viking was at home on the waves.

(Never mind the fact that Hiccup had been afflicted with seasickness since he was a babe.)

But on  _this_  ship, that tidbit was overridden by the sheer _size_  of the liner; the behemoth sliced through the smaller tides with ease and honestly, Hiccup figured that only a storm would be able to rock the vessel. The…very… _metal_  vessel.

Okay, so that little part did… _bother_  Hiccup a teensy bit.

(Not that he thought they'd  _sink_  or something horrible like that because  _hey_  it was floating when they got there—odds are, it would float while they were traveling as well— _right?_ ) Still. It was just a bit… _overwhelming._ Sure, for some, the train should have been more of a brain-boggler, but when Jack mentioned a boat, he was sure he'd find solace in something  _familiar._

And now, standing there below deck in the hallway (the  _ship_  has a  _hallway_ ), he felt ever a fish out of water. It was definitely a boat all right—a metal one that could probably house the entire  _village,_ and, from what Jack described, would be driven by similar mechanics as the train. Hiccup sighed; well at least the ocean was the same… Same salty spray, same push and pull of the tides, every Viking's lullaby. And when the sun was nearly setting above the deck, Hiccup could almost say the same about the sky—pinking clouds over the horizon in a world he was alien to and couldn't help but want to discover more of. So much technology, so many cultures, so many resources available and opportunities afforded because of that. Some things changed for the better. And some things don't change at all—for that, Hiccup was grateful too.

But when Jack tapped his shoulder and Hiccup turned, the auburn nearly took back that last bit. Well, there was one thing that didn't change—and that was Hiccup was  _mistakenly_  cast as a woman.

Jack aiding in this trying costume changes, though, that one was new. "Here. I, uh, bought you a dress." Huh. The hesitancy was new too.

When Hiccup took a critical eye to the offered garment, he was mildly surprised—in a good way, he guessed. While it wasn't the apparel that Hiccup would have preferred, at least Jack seemed to take the brunet's plight in perspective when he obtained the clothing. It was… _nice._ It was also nice, Hiccup supposed, that Jack got it for him. Still, when Hiccup took the garment and fitted it over his form, he couldn't help but frown and couldn't help the first few words that tumbled out of his mouth. "You…sure you didn't buy a tent by mistake?"

Toothless seemed to laugh in that warbling manner suited for a dragon as Hiccup poked his head through the bottom of the skirt, absolutely mystified as to how to make it fit…and also poke just a bit of fun…to alleviate the collecting awkwardness in the air.

Just slightly affronted, Jack scoffed. "Well, excuse me,  _I'm_  not really the expert on dresses here." He peeked through the dress's neckline, fighting a smile at the sight of Hiccup staring back at him.

The brunet, as usual, just sent him a flat stare. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." He turned towards the Night Fury, slyly adding, "What d'ya think, Bud? Bet we can fit Dagur's entire armada in here." Well…what was left of it anyways.

Jack didn't laugh. "C'mon, just put it on."

The Viking rolled his eyes as he pulled away and draped the apparel over his arm. "Careful Jack or I'll start thinking you actually look  _forward_ to seeing me in dresses."

 _That_  little remark hit a little too close to those thoughts Jack didn't particularly enjoy paying attention to. Ah well. Knowing that he'd get the last say in this conversation with this verbal reprisal, Jack replied: "Never denied you looking good in them either." He smirked at the soundless stupor that followed before walking away and up the stairs feeling just slightly victorious. Slightly.

And that left Hiccup in the hallway, holding the dress and face reddening without anyone to judge him. Well…except for Toothless. It was then in that trite silence that the events that had just taken place really sunk in: Jack had gotten him a  _dress._ Was he mortified? Oh yes.  _Very_.

But it was also then that Hiccup realized he never thanked the other boy. Surely not for the dress  _because like Hel he'd ever thank someone for giving him a dress_  but because…Jack didn't do it to be cruel and judging by the clothing in his hands, he at least had Hiccup's comfort in mind. It wasn't poofy or ridiculously large that the poor boy would end up drowning in it, or  _pink_  for that matter (may he have Thor's blessing for that one), but something… _nice_.

His stomach did a weird flip, but he ignored it. They were on a ship after all… (Never mind that Hiccup could barely feel the ocean's rhythm due to the boat's immense mass.)

Hiccup sighed and turned to his best friend. "Augh...why are things so difficult…" Even more difficult was knowing that in some way, Hiccup had to show his appreciation. Even if the dress was probably several sizes too big.

He was pretty sure Toothless responded with a careless remark, " _Trouble follows you._ "

.

It wasn't' very fair.

In Vlad's defense, it wasn't like he had  _known_ that Jack didn't played chess when they first started their game. The Winter Spirit knew some of the basic rules from mere observation from tournaments in parks and the like, but it wasn't like he had anyone to sit down with to play. (' _Hm…maybe North would be up for it.'_ )Still, Jack figured that it was nice now that he had the chance…if only Vlad wasn't so damn heartless on the beginner.

Not that he was  _really_  complaining either. And when he looked all about him, it was obvious why. The sun was setting and a warm pallet had descended over the ship's deck and the ocean breezes blew warmth into the twilight-lit scene; it was all very picturesque and all  _very_  relaxing. Jack figured it was good for the mind to unwind and take it easy sometimes, especially in golden moments like these that didn't come by often enough. ' _Okay so after Vlad's turn, maybe I can move the rook over…'_

"Check mate." Goddamnit. Maybe he shouldn't have let his guard down.

And it was in Jack's sulking that he missed the lithe silhouette, skirt flowing with the sunset currents, striding towards them. Midway, however, the bashfulness in the figure was pushed aside in light of ever-budding curiosity directed at the checkered board between the two males. Well, Hiccup might not know what game they were playing, but from the look of things (mainly Jack's sour expression) the frosty-haired boy lost.

And while Jack was still denouncing the integrity of the circumstance that pit him against a callous and seasoned player, one look up and Jack realized it also wasn't very fair how a single glance at the auburn could steal the breath right out of his lungs.

Vladimir wasn't quite sure what his partner was gaping at, but he had a guess. And with one turn, the man couldn't help but think  _oh_ , what a sight it was! Of course, Vlad couldn't help but gasp in awe. "Wonderful!  _Marvelous_!" And indeed their little lady was, a sheepish smile on her lips at the open praise but straight and regal in stance—just as a royal should be. And as well as any royal  _should_ know…"Now you are you're dressed for a ball, you will learn to dance for one as well." Thankfully, Vlad spun around as he said that, missing the half-frozen look of horror on the princess's face. "Dimitri?"

Jack really should have known it would come to this. He stood from his chair, making his way to the blushing brunet. "You ready for this, Hiccup?"

He merely shot the other a wry grin. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Hiccup felt just a little bit bad for that one as Jack visibly flinched and looked down mournfully at his shins. Just a bit.

Hiccup put out his arms to dance, vaguely remembering the form (after all, he had been stuck in it for a whole night last time), but it was different with another person present. ' _How did it go…'_  He awkwardly positioned himself to Jack, stiffly placing his hand on the other's shoulder, reddening as Jack followed suit. He didn't dare look at the other. Vladimir shook his head but counted off into the waltz anyways.

"And…one- two- three. One- two- three—No, no, Hiccup," he dictated. "Don't resist the movement so much. Remember:  _you_  don't lead. Let him  _guide_  you."

At that Hiccup nodded and turned to his partner; he swallowed at the minimizing distance between them as they tried once more. Following that, they nearly crashed into each other as well when a faint melody drifted into the air.

"Jack…?" Hiccup whispered.

"Yeah…?" Jack turned a bit, glancing warily to-and-fro.

"You hear that too, right?" Just to make sure Hiccup wasn't the only one going nuts here.

Jack sighed and shrugged as best he could while still holding on to the other. "I do. And you know what? I don't know why we keep getting surprised." The hand around the auburn loosened and their movements became a bit more fluid, maintaining a steady tempo now that there was a rhythm to dance to. "Sounds nice, actually…"

Hiccup stifled a laugh. "You're right…someone  _really_  likes to mess with us."

The Guardian shared a grin as they waltzed along, the sweet tune softly carrying them, a ship on its sails, snow on the wintry gales, or a dragon on the wing.

"You think we'll ever get used to this?" Jack murmured.

There was a ghost of a laugh tickling his ear. "Hopefully not?" But before any other meaning could settle, Hiccup amended, "But…for your sake, I hope so."

And just because Jack knew he could get away with saying it, he did: "Looking good, by the way." He eased the brunet to a twirl, amused by the frown on the auburn's lips and the red in his cheeks.

"I should hope you think so considering you chose the dress," Hiccup remarked as Jack brought them to closed position once more. But that brought up another thought, the slightest falter in his movements as a result. "I…thanks. By the way— _for the dress_. Uh—not  _for_ the dress but—"

"You're getting nervous…" Jack pointed out.

"Wh—"

"You slow down and tense up." He brought his hand to soothe the other's back. "It's no problem…and relax—I'm just trying to give you a—"

"Compliment?" Unsurprisingly, it did little to calm the Viking; it did, however, leave room for him to retort. Which in turn, does allow Hiccup to relax…which was what Jack originally intended.

"Statement," Jack corrected. And judging by the smile on his face and the fluid motions they followed, Jack had been expecting that all along. And for a reason he didn't know himself, Jack said those words again, a bit softer and a just a speck more sincere. "You…look good."

And for a reason Hiccup didn't know either, he smiled in return, not even bothering to reply to the embarrassing  _statement_. They swirl into the dance, little by little gaining in grace. There's something in air, stirring, some parts exhilarating and another part absolutely terrifying in its dizzying effects; it's in his lungs and made its way to the heart, planting itself stubbornly, affectionate flowers blinding those to its vicious thorns.

_But whose?_

((It's not delicate—what binds them and what is building between them. It's a cruel little twist like a dagger to the chest, a secret left in the open air, a heart doomed to fall.))

But no one knew that.

Well…maybe except for Vladimir, as he watched the pair—

"It's one-two-three

And suddenly…"

—Jack, gazing softly into Hiccup's eyes—

"I see it at a glance—

she's radiant and confident and born to take this chance"

—and Hiccup entirely unsuccessful in concealing that small smile.

"I taught her well

I planned it all!

I just forgot…"

… _Romance_!"

The man sighed haplessly.

"Vlad…how could you do this?

How will we get through this?

I should have never let them…

… _Dance_ …"

 _Wobbly._  Hiccup's knees, the world, and his thoughts all shared that adjective right now. It was a bit frightening and when did the whole universe feel like time was creeping to a halt? Did they do something wrong? But no…it didn't feel like it. Nothing about this felt  _wrong._ "I'm feeling a little…"

"Light headed?" Jack supplied. He slowed his steps, eyes never leaving the rouge blush that traveled from freckled cheeks to his neck.

"Yeah. Uh…maybe nauseas too…" Yes, that was exactly why he was holding Jack close right now. They were on a ship after all.

"Me too…" Jack confided. "Butterflies?" he suggested. Jack grinned when Hiccup gave a half-hearted glare and a deeper blush as a reply.

"Would explain the nausea…" the brunet quietly agreed. After all, the boat wasn't swaying all that much…and soon, they weren't either.

The melody faded fast, falling under the dimming skies, leaving the tempo to two dancing hearts, even as their feet slowed to a halt and their arms relaxed into an embrace. Sudden and fleeting, wreaking havoc in the small happenstance, evoking something unnamed and rousing a memory. That feeling, he meant—a hazy recollection of moonlight and silver dresses, of quiet gardens and millions of stars dotting the sable galaxy before them. Of a frantically beating heart…and a waltz that he had never wanted to end.

' _What's going on..?'_  "Maybe we should stop," Jack murmured—half in wonder, half in worry.

"We  _have_  stopped." It might've been a retort…might've. But with Hiccup's voice just a few decibels above silence, it was hard to tell.

Maybe Jack should move in a little closer…? Just to hear him better.

"Hiccup, I…"  _Weird_. His heart ached for just a second there.

"Yeah…?" Hiccup sounded breathy there for a moment too; but didn't they just stop dancing?

(( _Sinking_ — just at the verge of a leap, a dive—to crumble beneath words unspoken, gyres of missteps and stumbles along the way, a perfect entropy for an imperfect and awful emotion that clawed its way to drag pitiful souls  _down, down, down_  an unforgiving path both beautiful and terrible.))

But no one knew that either. Well…maybe except for Toothless.

Normally, Hiccup commended Toothless for his impeccable timing, but the moment the draconic barks broke the spell, for one frazzled minute, Hiccup wasn't so sure that was a good thing or not. But the thought was short-lived as the moment right after, the pair scrambled back to get some distance between them.

"You—uhm, you've gotten a lot better," Jack hastily remarked, just to fill the silence.

At that, Hiccup gave a trembling grin. "No more incriminating bruises?" Trembling, but not hollow. Can't be hollow. Too many thoughts were colliding for it to be.

And the Guardian returned it with a laugh. "Yeah…" Jack's, though…that was hollow.

.

It was a miracle, really, that Hiccup could resist going a bit green in the face. His first experience on a boat had been a near disaster (he doesn't ever think he could forget what became of his father's shoes during that little incident). But as luck would have it,  _despite_ the mounting waves that rocked the liner to and fro, maybe all the flying he had been doing for the past year or so combated his motion sickness.

Too bad the same couldn't be said for Vlad.

He braced himself against the ship's beams, not weathering the storm well at all. Hiccup's heart went out to him, it really did. "Ahh… are you all right?"

"Fine, fine," the man groused. "Just… _riddled_  with envy. Look at him—" a hand directed Hiccup's gaze to Jack, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as he laid on his makeshift bed on the cabin floor. "He can sleep through anything."

The ship, appearing to be against Vlad and his sensitive stomach, tilted, timbers (and a certain Russian) groaning. And Toothless, to the dragon's humiliation, slid along the floor until the small dragon bumped into Jack's backpack. Really…being this tiny and helpless was an absolute insult. The dragon huffed and noted with some interest that the pack's flap was open, contents threatening to spill out. Well now…if there was one trait that he and Hiccup shared…it was their insatiable curiosity. Poking his nose through the assortment of things inside, something glittering faintly in the dim room's lights immediately grabbed hold of Toothless's attention.

From what his human told him, dragons (at least in other areas of the world) had this nasty reputation of being incredibly greedy to the point of legendary epics composed of mountains of gold protected under a dragon's belly. Toothless bleated in agitation; ridiculous. Every dragon has a soft-spot for anything shiny, but that was just because light was amusing to chase. It didn't matter if it was glass or gold. But what those humans weren't wrong about was the concept of a dragon's sheer possessiveness of their treasure.

So, because it was interesting and because he knew his treasure would find it so too, Toothless gripped the shiny object between his jaws and scrambled across the room. He dropped it on his treasure's lap and was immediately rewarded with a scratch under his chin for the gift.

"What d'you have here, Bud?" Hiccup picked up the item, marveling at the intricate details; pearls and emeralds adorned the gold, enveloped in elegance and opulent in the wealth it displayed. And for some reason, Hiccup couldn't help but feel like he had that thought not too long ago. Or maybe it was long ago…something like meeting a familiar face but not exactly remembering a name…or hearing a song and knowing its tune but the words were still too far out of reach. Yes…it was something like that, something like forgotten promises and echoes of winters past.

"Pretty jewelry box, isn't it?" Vlad commented, watching as Hiccup cradled it lovingly.

"Jewelry box?" he murmured. "You sure that's what it is?"

"What else could it be?" Vlad asked.

Hiccup turned the gold-laden box in his palm, a soothing symphony too far away for his ears to catch.  _On the wind—_  "I'm…really not sure. Something else…? Something  _special_  …something to do with a _secret_." — _across the sea._ "Is that possible?" And really, Hiccup had to chuckle at that. Like he knew anything that was  _impossible_ anymore. Though, he was also probably laughing out of shock as Toothless decided it was bath-time for his best buddy. "Sorry. I don't know what came over me." He pulled away from the warm tongue and wiped the drool with the sleeve of his nightwear.

Vladimir climbed into his berth, heart gladdened by the day's turnout. "Anything's possible. You taught Dimitri how to waltz, didn't you?"

"I'm sure it was the other way around…but surprisingly, nobody sustained bodily harm." Hiccup stood to secure the "jewelry" box in the backpack, surprised that he was met with little opposition by Toothless for 'returning' his gift. Weird… but Hiccup shrugged and rewarded his friend with another rub down all the same. Could never be too careful with a dragon's feelings.

Nuzzling into the affection, the dragon curled around Hiccup's stomach, mindful of the large bulge overhead from the Russian situated above.

"Sleep well, your majesty," Vlad whispered.

And as Vladimir shifted, the poor dragon found himself crushed between his human and the mattress above. It was a good thing Hiccup was always mindful of these sorts of events, even if he did resist a chuckle for Toothless's sake while he utilized his foot to move Vlad for Toothless to squeeze to his side. With a grateful croon, Toothless snuggled next to him, content as the boy murmured, "Good night, Bud."

.

 _Dreams_  were frightening things.

Images stored in the mind are cut and copied and entangled in plotless schemes or a blur of enchanting fantasies flashing before closed eyes; oh there was little doubt they were a  _wonder_ and something that neither science nor psyche had fully explored. Hopes, fears— the black of sleep becomes the blank slate of arbitrary commotion, confusion, chaos, and conflict to paint its whims and smear its tales. Vast universes were constructed with roles in place—faces and voices that served purpose no matter at which varying degree— a story unfolding. Yet, at the height of their magnificence, they were terrible too—a true test of the heart's fortitude by weaving everything one could ever hope for, everything one could ever  _live_ for—and it all disappearing come morn.

" _And pleasant dreams to you, Princess…"_

One could almost say those were worse than  _nightmares_ ….

" _I'll get inside your mind where you can't escape me._ "

But that's impossible. Laughable, really. Your heart's desire pitted against the secrets shoved far beyond the light of day, thriving on those quiet moments in the blackest hour to fester in anxious silence…how can it be contested? Your mind knows you too well: in nightmares— _nothing is safe._

.

From under the door, silvery smoke silently slithered, a ghastly shade of the moonbeams wrapped and warped in a wicked scheme. They crept along the floor, dodging the figure in the corner, seeking its prize, a predator in search for delectable dreams to twist to haunting horrors. And when they smothered their prey atop the lowest berth, a  _smile_  lifts the corner of his lips as innocent slumber was steadily poisoned. A warmth—a pull—a longing—mere curiosity or a heart's yearning, the lure was cast and the poor boy was drawn to the hook.

Hiccup slid out of bed, eyes closed and movements drunk with sleep, an entranced  _smile_  that  _did not belong_  veiled by darkness and only lit by a phantom guide. The boy walked in perfect balance to the sway of the storm, sluggish and slow, teased along by daydreams and opiates of the heart. He slipped past the threshold and the door clicked shut behind him.

The dragon stirred at the noise—but it was too late.

He walked in slumber, down the hallway toward the stairs, chasing phantoms while the ship pitched violently in the storm, a cooing voice familiar and precious to his ears drawing him towards the night.

Toothless howled in worry after him, the dragon's attempts to open the door falling short as sharpened claws beat uselessly at the obstruction. The Night Fury huffed before spotting the not-human in safe slumber some feet away. Toothless growled. If he wanted to court his human, this  _Jökul_  better learn how to keep him safe.

With that thought in mind, Toothless swallowed the rest of his draconic pride and jumped on the pale one to end his slumber.

To Toothless's utter despair, Jack merely turned over.

.

Rolling on a giant swell, Hiccup walked to the upper deck, mouth fixed in that same  _smile_  as he greeted the ghosts in his mind's eye. Never mind the howling of the winds, nor the bitter rain from violent clouds—it was important to sit up straight and greet each presence, especially those only you could see.

The boy climbed over the railing of the deck and gazed longingly into the black ocean. He slid back against the ship, rain and seawater pelting him in icy temperatures, and still, he continued to grin madly in Death's presence.

 _Come on!_  a child's voice rang, clear as bells in impish delight, a jaunty tune wherein the Pied Piper ensnared. And laughter swirled in the night, drowned by the crashing of waves and tears shed from an angry sky.

.

Toothless growled in frustration; what a useless mate this one would be… still, instinct told the dragon that if anyone were to reach his boy, this one would do. So sat on his haunches and right by the pale boy's ear, he roared a magnificent call to action that was inherent to any of his kind.

To Jack, however, it sounded like a wild animal out for blood. He sprung from his position on the floor, alert and frightened for dear life. "What-what—Toothless?  _Toothless_!?" He groaned, eying the frantic dragon as the black blur scrambled towards the bottom bunk. "What's gotten…" Jack's swore he stopped breathing.

_The bed was empty._

"Hiccup?  _Hiccup?!_ " Jack scrambled to the entrance while Toothless followed suit. The pair burst out the door and made their way towards the stairs, soaked with rain as the winds echoed throughout the hall. Despite the raging storm outside, Toothless was fully prepared to even brave hail or fire for his boy. And that was the plan too, until the pale one blocked the path. " _Ohh_ no you don't." Jack turned to give the dragon a warning glare. "You are  _not_ going out there. If anything happened to you, Hiccup would personally make sure I'd never walk again."

Their eyes clashed—glacial blue and toxic green—before Toothless lowered his head. Nodding, the not-human dashed on through the storm while Toothless stood stranded, waiting for the not-boy and his best friend to return.

Jack shivered as he caught a tremor in the air—an agonized howl carried forth by furious gales.

.

Hiccup, grasping the guide line, teetered on the railing as chaos fell around him; the slightest slip and he'd fall into the black embrace and never emerge. But it wasn't as though he was picturing that…nor was that the sight he believed to be witnessing.

The mind oft wonders and creates based on chance whims or furtive desires, for what is reality but mere perception that was all too easily  _twisted_ : roses and poisons…perhaps both serve a sinister purpose—a doomed destiny awaiting an opportune moment, the slightest tip in the balance to a wicked favor. And as the auburn dangled to fate's end, deceit painted an illusory scenery. A precipice overlooked a beautiful pool and a small boy beside him pointed down towards the swimmers—a  _family_ , looking up—waving to him in amiable welcome. Hiccup watched as the little one took a mighty leap to crystalline waters, sweet laughter resounding in his ears.

A man, face warm and welcoming, greeted him from below.  _"Hello, sunshine."_  And  _oh_ , Hiccup thought he had heard that voice before, somewhere in the back of his mind, a soft call to soothe an aching heart and a phantom stroke to his hair as miserable tears streaked down on those lonely nights.

And then there was  _their_ merriment, bright and sweet, like a harmony that sung from the break of consciousness to the bleary eyes of dawn, a shadow of comfort, kind and teasing faces when during the days, he knew only of scorn and derision.  _"Come into the water!"_  his sisters called.

—That thought startled him.

_He had sisters?_

"Jump in— jump!" he called, so very excited, so very affectionate— _insistent ,impatient, hurried, entrapping—_ so full of  _love_.

Oh…that was silly. Of  _course_  she had sisters. "A-ah, Hello!" Anya giggled. Of course; she was the youngest right after Alexei after all.  _Olga_ … _Tatiana_ …and her beloved  _Maria_ …her family was all here, waiting for her to join them below…

" _Come in!" the sirens sang._

_._

This was  _insane_.

That was one of the several other thoughts Jack had as he scoured through the deck, drenched in rain and nearly slipping from every available surface. Other thoughts…weren't very coherent. Many of them involved darkness and water and yeah  _that_ is not really a good thought to have when your dumb friend decided to take a stroll out in the middle of a goddamn storm.

It didn't matter if this was an  _ocean_ and not a lake in Burgess, nor did it matter that this was a tempest and not a winter's day—it didn't matter that this was five times more distressing than that glimpse in his memories because at least he could  _see_ his sister without blindly running back and forth on this godforsaken chunk of metal—none of that mattered because if it fucking mattered, Jack wouldn't be able to move from his spot without thinking that every single step he took would be his last. And that couldn't happen because he still needed to find Hiccup and kick his ass for coming out here in the first place.

Jack gasped in horror as he spotted the other teen edging along on the ships railing, holding on to the guide wire. Terrified beyond all reason, Jack raced to the other boy, thoughts stringing together to form a semi-coherent sentence. "No— _nonononononono_  you dumbass,  _drowning is not fun_! Believe me on that!"

There was a sudden lurch in the ship before an enormous wave swallowed the deck whole.

 _Darkness_  …darkness and…salt. A lot of salt. Jack coughed, clearing his lungs and took desperate gasps of air to replace the lost volume. He…was on the crow's nest. Jack swallowed that shiver of petrification before cautiously clamoring about. Well…anything was better than being thrown overboard by Mother Nature, right? Jack idly wondered if that was payback for the Schoolhouse Blizzard of 1888.

The Guardian shook the thought out of his head before casting his gaze in the near-darkness, trying to search for any sign of Hiccup anywhere. Thankfully, he spotted the Viking in the same spot as before—hanging on for dear life by the railing and…edging closer to open water?!

" _Hiccup, stop!"_

Jack grabbed on to a rope line and swung out, praying dearly that he'd make it on time…and that this cinematic execution would work.

.

It was funny—no, not  _funny_  because there wasn't anything at all to laugh about when it happened, but it was  _strange_ and definitely _odd_  how a single thought could burst the dream at its seams, a mere observation, a careless thought with pointed edges that could slash an entire fantasy to distorted fragments.

Because the family below was so very kind, looking with such exuberance and radiance, the sisters with their carbon-copy grins and little Alexei with his enthusiastic yells and her father—

— _father_.

((— _Chief of the tribe. They say when he was a baby, he popped a dragon's head clean off of its shoulders—_ ))

"C'mon sweetheart… **jump**!"

(( _—Do I believe it?_ )) _  
_

" _ **JUMP**_ _!"_

((— _Yes _I__ _do_.))

Hiccup shook his head, eyes wide with terror. "No…"

A familiar voice cut through the air: "Hiccup,  _NO_!"

And just like that… everything shattered.

" _ **YES!**_ _ **JUMP**_ **!"**

 _A curse._ It echoed through Hiccup's mind. A name and the curse that fed off their blood and sought their lives. It rang and rippled through the lurid illusion before smashing it completely as the man below was no longer a man—no longer a figure of any human description. The skies blackened and the ground quaked and demons and sirens took to the skies as the gilded dream revealed its true form in hellish agony and threatened to sink the boy down through the fiery gates.

Hiccup screamed.

.

"Not today, Rose." Jack gritted his teeth as he hauled the struggling Viking away from the lapping waves beneath. "Hiccup! Hiccup! Hiccup wake up,  _wake_   _up_!"

The rain had stopped some seconds ago and the winds had ceased making it easier for Jack to lift Hiccup to the other side of the railing with only their ragged breaths and crashing waves breaking the silence. Taking care to steady him, Jack half-dragged and half-carried the Viking to the base of the smokestack. The brunet jolted awake, gasping for breath, cheeks streaked with tears, and eyes bright with panic, glossed over as though still lingering from a dream. Hiccup, still shaking with horrified sobs, threw his arms around the other boy the moment his foot landed on solid ground.

"The Romanov curse…  _The Romanov curse—!"_

" _The Romanov …_ what are you talking about?" Jack pulled away to look at him, heart splintering at the sight of the smaller teen, lost and fearful.

"I keep seeing faces… _So many faces_ …" Hiccup murmured, curling into himself.

Terror dissipating from his system, Jack let out a breath, just thankful the Viking was right here. "I'm here…I'm here." He allowed Hiccup to pull him in another embrace, even drawing the younger boy closer to him, feeling the other's heartbeat frantically in his chest. "It was a nightmare. It's all right— you're safe now."

At that, Hiccup shook his head violently, green eyes flooded with fear. " _NO_ —Jack, you don't get it! I—"

Jack bristled at seeing the lingering effects, holding the boy tighter to him. "If this was Pitch's doing I swear—"

"No Jack…it's  _me_ ," Hiccup croaked, pushing some distance between them. "It's  _Anya_." His entire body shook and Jack pressed closer to give what little warmth he could offer. Nestled against him, Hiccup buried his face into a sopping-wet shoulder. "Her thoughts are driving me insane…"

"What do you mean?" And  _it_ was back…that gnawing feeling that hadn't left Jack since that episode on the bridge. "Hiccup— _please_. I just…let me help…"

Hiccup gasped a shuddering breath, keeping his voice low. "I keep seeing them. Her memories. Anya's or  _whoever_  she is. They're not mine, they can't be, but I keep seeing them… _over_  and  _over_  again…" He blinked forcing the swelling terror down. "I saw them, Jack. Her  _family_." Quietly, almost as if the words would break if he spoke them any louder, "I—almost  _jumped_  because I— _she_ wanted to be with—"

"You're  _not_  her, okay?"  _Oh God…oh god. Hiccup had—he almost—_ If Jack heard Hiccup's groan of protest at being crushed against him, the Guardian paid little heed to it. "You're  _not_  her."

Hiccup wrenched himself away from him. " _Don't you think I've been telling myself that?!"_  He took deep breaths, refusing to see the worry and hurt written plainly on the other's expressive eyes. But he figured he'd give an explanation anyways. "I saw a man down there, Jack. That man was  _not_  my father and  _I_ know that Jack, I really do…" His breath stopped, mouth gasping silently. "…but I… _I_ "

Jack placed a palm over Hiccup's shoulder. "What happened?"

Hiccup looked right at him, broken. "For a second…I forgot." Something like dread dropped like a stone in Jack's stomach. "For a second…I forgot who my  _father_  was. How he  _looked_  like…his  _voice,_ " Hiccup sucked in another breath, lungs burning for air as his breathing grew quicker and his inhales and exhales grew shallow. "For a second…I wasn't  _me_. Before, I'd get lost in my head…but those were  _her_ thoughts. And I  _knew_  that. I  _knew_  they were  _hers_ —but now… _now_ …"

"But now you're not alone." As Jack was listening, it occurred to him that this was what the other boy had not been telling him on the train. Damnit…didn't he say that he could tell Jack  _anything_? Because while Jack wasn't entirely sure he couldn't have prevented this from happening, he could have still  _been there_ and made sure Hiccup didn't go through this feeling like he had  _no one_. "You got  _me_ , okay?" He knew from personal experience that being  _alone_ was the most painful part. "I…had trouble with my memories too. Not now—before we met. I was alone…for a very,  _very_  long time…I was  _alone_." The auburn stilled for a tense moment at the way the other boy's words cracked, a resounding ache that hadn't healed quite yet. Hiccup nodded, understanding. Even as Jack's voice drifted to silence, Hiccup let himself fall into the other's hold, straight into open arms, heart perhaps fluttering as the other tightened their hold. "I won't let that happen to you, got it?"

"…I don't know what to do, Jack," the Viking confided quietly. "It keeps getting worse…"

"We'll find a way." He soothed the other's back, tremors still shooting down his spine. Jack swallowed, calming himself before he could even try to do the same for the boy in his arms. Calming so he could  _think._  "A friend of mine…" he began, grasping on to sage words and little golden boxes. "She told me that…that memories were  _precious_ …in reminding you what's most important." He pulled the boy to meet his eyes. "We just need to remind you."

Doubt stirred in them. "I've already tried that Jack—"

"Yeah…but remember: this time, you have  _me_ ," the Guardian gently reminded. "We have time…if we wanted to, we'd have all the time in the world."

Hiccup coughed a frail laugh. Not nearly lucid enough to counter with a proper retort, his words swayed as reason melded in truce with Viking-esque stubbornness. "Sounds insane enough." But he gave the other a shaky smile anyways. "Do you really think this'll work?"

"It has to." He had to admire the amount of conviction Jack had in his words.

"But if it doesn't…?" Hiccup pressed.

To that, Jack responded with a smile. "Then we'll figure something out."

Hiccup steadied himself and leaned back against the cold metal, breaking from the other's hold. Running a hand over his face to brush the water out of his eyes and hair, Hiccup sighed. "So…where do we start?" He lowered himself onto the floor, orbs of summer green never leaving the blues of gleaming ice. "What do we do?"

"Well, first…you can tell me who you are." He sat beside the other boy, as he spoke, a wan smile crossing his lips. "Strange as it is…I don't think we ever properly introduced ourselves. Then…you can tell me where you're from, who you grew up with…something to help you remember who  _you_ are." He took the other teen's hand in his own, feeling the cold fingers reflexively fitting between the open spaces betwixt Jack's own. "And something to help me remind you…"

Basic enough…although Hiccup knew he was going to regret that first suggestion right away. Still, he bit the bullet anyways, putting his faith in a boy that kissed him, that married him, and very nearly died for him. He supposed this was the least he could do. "Okay…well, my name's Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third—" And he stopped at the first sign of the other choking.

Choking back amusement, that was. "Wait…are you… _pfft_ …are you  _serious_?" A single glance to the right and Hiccup spotted the expected reaction immediately: the corners of Jack's lips twitching violently to suppress a laugh. The Viking rolled his eyes and gave a light shove to the other with his elbow.

" _Believe_   _me_ , it's not the worst." His cousin, case in point. "Parents back at Berk believe a hideous name will frighten off gnomes and trolls. Like our  _charming_  Viking demeanor wouldn't do that."

At that, the laughter stopped altogether, followed by an uncharacteristic gasp of awe. "Whoa…did you say  _Viking_? As in  _Norse_  Vikings?" Between the laughter and ogling, the smaller teen wasn't sure which reaction he preferred.

"That'd…be correct." Hiccup frowned. "How did you…?"

Jack swallowed, gaping at Hiccup with assessing interest. "You—you guys were part of history.  _My_  world's history."

Hiccup cast a questioning look, incredulity beneath skeptical eyes. "A-are you saying that—"

The Guardian shook his head. "I…don't know." He blew out a breath _. Was it really…?_  Then again, "We don't have dragons in my time…nor the past three hundred years I've been around before then." But of course, there were legends. Nothing more than that however. A woven tale of magnificent monsters that claimed the fire and skies with insubstantial proof of their existence.

_Just like Santa Clause, or the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy, or the Sandman…_

But that was  _different_ ; immersed in a world of magic and  _not once_ had he ever seen a  _dragon_ nor  _heard_ of their existence _._  Impossible, possible…there was still a fine line separating the two, even if  _some_ things were shifted during their little expedition. So…it couldn't be.

The Viking hummed, perplexed by the new information, not yet allowing everything Jack said to sink in. "So…not the same world then, but similarities in—whoa, whoa,  _wait_ …you're  _three hundred_  years old?!" The subject of intense scrutiny immediately flipped with the Viking carefully retracting his hand from the other as though in fear of demolishing a fragile artifact.

Not sure whether to be offended or not, Jack merely chose to react with proper dignity. "Ah…right…I forgot to introduce myself." He cleared his throat, trying to figure out where to start with this one. Oh well, might as well start with the basics too. With that decided, he flashed Hiccup that same obnoxious smirk and held out his hand in proper greeting. "Jack Frost—Guardian of Fun."

.

In light of that night, not much had really changed.

 _Sure_ Jack definitely had a better idea of who Hiccup was, where he was from, his friends, and father, while Hiccup had been given a rather truncated account of Jack's three hundred years of existence (mostly his Guardianship and the events before he was awakened by the Man in the Moon), but that didn't mean it  _changed_  anything between them.

' _Oh, you mean Máni?'*_

' _Yeah! How'd you know?'_

' _Well…he's the Moon, of course.'_

Ensuing conversations lead the Guardian to discover  _he_ (or rather his myth) had been a "celebrated" character in Hiccup's world.

' _Wait—you guys believed in me?'_

' _Well, yeah. Who else made it snow nine months of the year and hail the other three. Thank you for that, by the way.'_

' _Hey—even if that_ was  _me, shouldn't you be glad I came by to visit so often?'_

They spoke of their friends…

' _You know, I still don't' think Cottontail ever forgave me for the Blizzard of '68.'_

' _I wouldn't either.'_

' _Hey, you're supposed to be on my side on this!'_

' _Well excuse me, but from the way you described it, it sounded as bad as the time the twins thought it would be really "fun" idea to plant dragon-nip all over the village.'_

' _Hehe…sounds like a riot.'_

' _It_ caused  _one.'_

And family too.

' _You…ever miss her?'_

' _Sometimes…her, and my sister.'_

'… _They'd be proud of you…you know, that?'_

' _Thanks…I'm sure you dad is too. I'm sure he always was.'_

 _Really_  not much had changed.

All right, they hung around each other more. Mostly because Jack's little plan was working. When Vladimir would rain hundreds of trivia on the brunet, exposing more and more of those buried memories as time went on, Jack would pull him away for some minutes (hours) and they'd…talk. And when they'd talk, Jack describing incredible worlds like the Pole or the Warren, and Hiccup discussing dragon training, his own inventions and project plans, there'd be little room to do think of anything else. Even Toothless seemed happier around Jack—

—or maybe not as when Hiccup had voiced that to his best friend, the dragon merely huffed and said something along the lines of Jack still needing to prove his worth.

And as they finally arrived at their destination, Hiccup figured that he could admit that yes, Jack had been right about many things…but this one surely took the cake.

Though what the Guardian had said was an understatement—Paris was absolutely  _stunning_.

Much to the Viking's chagrin, however, there was little time to explore the massive city. Though the day was clear and the towering buildings gleamed in the morning sun…he was stuck in the car (what he wouldn't give to soar over the cityscape on Toothless's back to take the entire scene in) as it entered the city, the vehicle winding its way to Sophie's house. No…instead, Hiccup had to make do with earth-bound streets and Jack shooting questions at him left and right, as Vlad mentally prepared himself to meet his 'Sophie.'

Seeing that dazed (utterly lovesick-for-the-view) look in those green eyes, Jack held back a smirk. He reviewed the little questionnaires Vlad had made for the brunet, calling out, "Focus, Hiccup." Said boy was currently debating whether or not Jack was actually enjoying tormenting him. Then again… Jökul always did have that reputation, didn't he?

Hiccup groaned. "Three days ago I got dropped off to the equivalent of 800 years into the  _future_  and now I'm trying to cram a whole royal's  _lifetime_  into my brain from information fed to me by the _Personification of Winter_!  _Forgive_  me if I start cracking sometime very soon."

Jack hummed. "That's why you've got me. Now where was Uncle Boris from?"

"Ugh…next time, I demand a trade," the Viking groused. Let's see Jack put up with this.

No matter how hard the Guardian tried (and the answer was: not very), he couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice. "Tick-tock~"

Hiccup shot him a hopeless look. "…Moscow?"

.

Well, it was Death or Glory.

And as the car pulled up to a tidy and prestigious estate and Vladimir walked straight up to the front door and gave it three expectant knocks, Hiccup mentally muttered, ' _Death...'_

They were greeted by the sight of a black-and-white clad maid, coquettishly answering, "Oui, Monsieur?" before a buxom woman practically shoved her out of the way to gasp in absolute delight at the presence at her door.

And to Hiccup, Vlad's never looked more smitten now than in all the time he had known him. "Sophie Stanislovskievna Somorkov-Smirnoff!" he gasped, love laden deeply into his words. Granted, Hiccup had only known him for only a number of days.

"Vladimir Vanya Voinitsky Vasilovich!" She giggled as Vladimir, ever the gentleman, soundly kissed her hand in an adoring greeting. She appeared near-swooning. "Well this  _is_  unexpected. Oh, but look at me where are my manners. Come in, come in, everyone. I'm palpitating with amazement, and shock and surprise—all three!"

Sophie ushered them inside with keen enthusiasm as Vladimir, Jack and Hiccup entered her beautiful home, the latter two admiring the setting in polite silence.

It was unfortunate, but Toothless came a bit too late to cross the threshold before the red door slammed shut. The dragon barely avoided crashing his face into it. There was a strangled howl at the unforgivable circumstance—really  _his human_ had no right to complain; he'd rather don some ridiculous garment than face this injustice. At least his dear rider wasn't barred from entrance left-and-right.

Quickly, Toothless jumped to the window box, several blooms cushioning the impact, and pressed his face to the glass to observe the scene inside. He spotted the Viking entering the drawing room, moving with such grace and regal poise that the dragon had never known existed in his boy; Toothless sat back on his haunches and anxiously watched the ploy play out.

"May I present—her Imperial Highness, the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna!" Vlad heralded.

Sophie surveyed Hiccup with a critical eye, assessing everything from the Viking's posture to the way he carried himself. "Oh my heavens – she  _certainly_  does look like Anastasia! But so did many of the others..."

And as her eyes critiqued his form, Hiccup released a silent, steady breath; this was  _fine_. This was an act, this was a role. There was nothing to fear because there were no real repercussions. Just as with the Stepmother, and just as Jack had inadvertently reminded him,  _he had been through worse._

_Red Death._

_Mildew._

_Dagur._

_Alvin._

Yes. Much worse.

"Where were you born?" Sophie interrogated.

The response was immediate—not hurried, not staggered— _natural_  as an actor's lines sailed through the stage _. "_ At the Peterhof Palace."

Sophie gave a sharp smile. " _Correct_."

.

With one ear pressed to the glass, Toothless crooned in delight at the affirmation from the woman at yet another successfully answered question. Though it was warm, and the sundial in the garden had already shifted its shadows to show many hours later, Toothless stood vigilantly. Err…never mind the crushed red blooms…they were too gaudy anyways.

"And how does Anastasia like her tea?" Ironically, or perhaps to test the boy, Sophie had a cup in her hand.

Hiccup shook his head. "I'm not too fond of it. Hot water and lemon is fine."

Yet another smile disappeared behind the rim of a cup. "Good."

Jack observed from a distance beside Vlad; Hiccup was certainly on a roll here; he was impressed...even if he had been standing there for God-knows-how-long. The Guardian could only hope for a few more questions; he didn't know how much longer he was expected to stay still and quiet. But in that silence, he wondered how Hiccup was able to doing it…seeing him like that…it was a bit unnatural. Regal… _elegant_ …nothing at all like the expressive and animated Viking he had been getting to know for the past few days. It was… _odd_.

"Finally," and Jack breathed a silent prayer at those near-sacred words. "You'll most likely find this an impertinent question, but indulge me." With astonishing calculation, the woman pursed her lips and turned a critical eye to the young auburn before her. "How did you escape during the siege of the palace?"

Against themselves, Jack and Vladimir exchanged a nervous look. Obviously, they never briefed Hiccup on this one. And before all of Vlad's plans erupted in flames and Jack's pulse could even increase in tempo—the auburn replied. The teen had been silent for only a moment before speaking, tone so very different than Jack had ever from the other.

In reality, Hiccup knew the answer very well. It danced in his thoughts, before the incident in the boat, before Jack took his hand and spoke or memories and their lives before this madness began. But even as he knew the response himself, he let Anya speak for him: " _There was a boy_ —a boy who worked in the palace. He opened a wall…and let us escape." Quietly, she added, "Both me and my Grandmamma…" Blinking the blue from his eyes, he released a shuddered breath, masking it with a weak chuckle. "Sorry…it sounds a bit impossible, doesn't it?"

If anyone noticed the absence of a certain Guardian, no one voiced it out loud.

Still, the woman before him gave her a strange look, a faint grin and a nod that could have meant anything or nothing at all.

Vlad approached Sophie, a hesitant tongue for such an important question: "So…Is she a Romanov?"

"Well, she answered every question…" Sophie conceded, a hesitant smile on her lips.

At that, something in Hiccup's chest thundered with happiness and relief. The Viking nearly sagged in his seat, a grin forming.  _Goodness_. Never let it be said that Hiccup didn't pay attention. The last few days had been the most intense schooling he had ever received in his lifetime.

And while Hiccup settled on being exhaustedly giddy, Vlad took on the role of being absolutely thrilled for them. "You hear that, child— _You did it_!" And when the man came at him with open arms, who was Hiccup to deny the kind-hearted man a hug?

Releasing the Viking, Vlad turned to Sophie, mind still reeling, knowing that their reward was too close to be anything but excited. "So, when do we go and see the Empress?

Her smile lowered a fraction as she picked up the tea tray. "I'm afraid you don't."

Fire doused but unwilling to give up, Vladimir held her hands. "Come again, my pet?"

"The Empress simply won't allow it," Sophie replied, torn herself. She looked away from Vlad's pleading eyes, knowing that she'd sooner crumble under the man's charms than take her cousin's words with finality. Vladimir would always have a piece of her heart, but Marie was her family.

But after all…wasn't Sophie doing this for Marie?

The woman was understandably pained. She had wanted her family back—that was all she ever wished. Truly, her Nicholas was lost to her until she herself closed her eyes to never awaken. Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Alexei, and dear Alexandra…perished. Sacrifice or murder—did it matter what the papers printed? They were gone. But Marie— _oh Marie_ …for years she had always believed, without a doubt, that her beloved Anastasia was still alive. Somewhere, in the streets that had turned against her family, a young girl was lost and for many years, her cousin would not admit defeat.

The reward was a necessary evil. Anything to send the hounds to seek what she had lost. But so many—  _so many_  lied,  _so many_  cheated— _so many_ were so shameless to approach the woman with greed in their eyes, too blind to see a frail heart, bruised and shattered too many times already.

Sophie shook her head. She had tried to help. Renew Marie's hopes and protect her from those who wished nothing more than to line their pockets, never minding the hurt of a grandmother only wishing to hold her grandchild in her arms once again.

 _But this one_ …Sophie took a good look at  _this_ Anastasia. Yes, she answered all the questions correctly. She was beautiful in the Romanov manner and moved with a grace bestowed by to her from an august name and a discipline brought on by an imperial upbringing.

But then again _so did many others_.

That last question, though…there was something in the way the young woman before her spoke. Marie had told her of it once, long ago—of a servant boy in the palace during the night of the siege, hers and Anastasia's savior.  _That_ was something worth looking into…

Vlad sighed, attempting to take the tray from her hands so she could sit down and speak reasonably. "Now Sophie, my bright diamond, surely you can think of some way to arrange a brief interview with the Dowager? I refuse to budge 'til an answer occurs to you." Vlad sighed, imploring. " _Please_."

Sophie was silent for a moment. Well…if she didn't take this chance…she would never forgive herself. She turned to  _this_ Anastasia—her last hope, as well as Marie's. "Do you like the Russian ballet? I believe they're performing in Paris tonight— the Dowager Empress and I  _love_  the Russian Ballet—  _we never miss it_ ," she added with a wink.

.

It was really strange.

When Hiccup described his episodes, he said it felt like being submerged in water—lights and sounds were all around, but nothing could ever reach you fast enough; your movements were dizzy, and you saw _memories_  like a daydream you had no control over, the images flickering through your mind like it was trying to crest through your own thoughts but always fell short of consciousness, instead thriving in the back of silent moments.

That was nothing like what Jack felt at all.

Vladimir rushed out to the gardens before spotting him past the archway, a giddy expression written all over his pinked face as he cheered. "We-e-e-e _– DID IT_!" Jack gave a weak chuckle as the man attempted to jump in the air and click his heels together (though not coming close at all). "We are going to see the Imperial Highness tonight! We're going to get the  _ten_   _million_  rubles! We are going to be—"

Jack shook his head. "Was there ever a doubt? Hiccup's the princess after all." There wasn't room for mistakes anymore. Not after what he heard. Not after what he  _saw_.

Not understanding at all, the Russian agreed ardently. "Hiccup was— _extraordinary_! I almost believed her and Sophie—"

On second thought, maybe it was best to let the man figure it out himself. Before Jack could even shake his head, however, a hurricane in a blue dress snatched him away, dragon in tow, and pulled him out towards the side, absolute misery in his eyes.

"Jack— _help_. Sophie wants to take us  _shopping_." It sounded more like Hiccup was told to prepare for combat rather than a trip down Avenue de Montaigne.

The Guardian gave a grin, perhaps a bit more forced than he would have liked. "Isn't that a good thing? Weren't you  _dying_ to see the sights?" Against the noxious butterflies fluttering rampantly in his stomach, Jack added, "Or are you dying to try on another dress?"

"Ugh."  _There_ was that sour expression Jack knew and loved. "The day I start getting comfortable wearing dresses—I'll gladly chew off my last foot."

He chuckled, pushing away that annoyingly hopeless feeling that shrouded his thoughts in favor of teasing the Viking. "Aww, don't worry. I'll still dance with you anyhow." At the glare he received, Jack added "I'll bring shin pads too."

.

Despite Hiccup's bellyaching during most of the dress shopping, there was no doubt he was as entranced by the city of lights as Jack was.

It wasn't often that Jack visited Paris, but when he did, there was a strange sense of liberation and rejuvenation he had when he flew through the light-laden lanes, glimmering with romance and the ambiance of the dramatic flair the metropolis just exuded. The streets were dotted with lovers and the skies above were drowned by a restless city, making starlight a rare thing to behold. No, wishes weren't granted here by celestial ornaments, hung up in the sky for a prayer to be breathed. Wishes were tossed in fountains, dreams poured into art, and falling in love in the city that made it famous was as simple as receiving a rose.

Hiccup blinked, accepting the vivid bloom from Jack's offered hand. "Uhm, thanks."

Jack smiled, eyeing the brunet all dolled up. "Looking good, by the way." Huh. Chanel. Jack wasn't very into  _high fashion_ but who knew periwinkle was a good color on Hiccup?

Hiccup gave a sickly sweet smile and a voice to match. "I'm so glad you like it— _here_ do you wanna trade?" Really. He'd take Jack's suit over this purple monstrosity any day. Besides, that suit actually looked  _good_ on Jack—not that Hiccup  _wanted_ to look good in a dress…a-and not that Jack looked  _good!_ …well he did but that wasn't really—

Before Hiccup could wallow in those strange thoughts, a chill ran down his spine. "Anastasia!" Sophie called from within the boutique. Jack snickered at the look of pure horror that crashed over the brunet.

"Jack—please don't let them drag me back there, I— _!?_ "

"Ahh, there you are, my dear." Hiccup froze as Sophie's hand came down on his shoulder. "Come, come! This one will look absolutely  _divine_ on you!"

" _Oh Thor…"_  Hiccup squeaked.

Jack grinned unapologetically as Hiccup was hauled back into the shop once more. And with no one else beside him, the Guardian took to his old habit of looking to the skies. Although the light pollution blocked off any galaxies he could see tonight…MiM was up there, as visible as the Eiffel in the dusky blue. He wondered if the oldest Guardian even knew what was happening right now…but then again, MiM had never been particularly talkative.

He looked about him, the streets riddled with people milling about their daily lives or making memories to cherish. He had wondered what it would be like to walk these streets as an ordinary human—he pondered that impossibility for many centuries. And now…here he was. He looked through the windows of the boutique and smiled at the sight of Hiccup looking positively tortured and Vlad grinning-and-bearing it while Sophie fetched dress after dress, both amusing and overworking the staff.

 _Yeah_ …Jack'll stick to breathing in that Parisian air, the night glimmering like a dream, whether young or old. And before he knew it, he was back to wandering the streets. Oh, we wouldn't go too far—he'd never hear the end of it from Vlad and Hiccup. He walked in relative silence, the busy hum of the streets keeping intruding thoughts at bay.

Well…at least he was…until something literally  _flew_ at him.

With a yelp, Jack ducked just in time and swerved to witness wings gliding off into the darkness of an alley. The other denizens hadn't seemed to notice a near-blood bath take place, instead going about business as per usual. He frowned, carefully crossing the road, interest piqued. It wasn't too unusual for animals to suddenly swoop down from the skies, after all. Maybe not to attack innocent pedestrians, but still…there was something weird about that  _thing_  that nearly shaved his head clean off. He looked to the narrow crevice, looming before him where the streetlights never reached. Even passers-by seemed to hasten, as though to avoid the daunting dark and whatever creatures could ensnare them into its den. Jack couldn't detect any sign of activity from where he stood, just at the brink of city noise and quiet oblivion…he wasn't even sure the animal was even there anymore.

It felt like a  _really_  bad idea…so naturally, Jack was drawn to it.

He allowed the shadows to swallow him, light nearly fading completely as he stepped into the alley. The only indication that time kept moving was the fading noise of the city streets as he wandered further into the chamber. A light chill rained down the column of his spine, senses hastening for him to turn back—flight overtaking fight—but something else entirely drew him in further. A  _pull_ he supposed would be sufficient to name it. A spider-thin thread that tugged him this way and that—

— _a marionette with made to dance along to a jeering tune, its own rhythm locked by a puppeteer's control._

Jack took a few steps forward, feeling along the walls for support. At a corner, he kept to the left, eyes widening and heart racing as he caught a faint flicker of light further down the narrow path. Swallowing and  _definitely_ knowing he was no longer alone, he kept his steps silent and quieted his breathing, despite the surge of  _fear_  that flooded his veins.

" _Such a pity…isn't it?"_

Jack started, biting down a yell. He swerved around, searching for the source of the voice in the dimness of the shadows. "Who's there?" It was fruitless, however. The voice reverberated in every direction.

" _You keep looking for the answers—but no one will give them to you…"_  There was a  _cruel_ laugh at that, bone-chilling and haunting and that alone almost made Jack bolt right at that second.  _Almost_ —until, "But…ahahaha… _you're used to that, aren't you?"_

Blue eyes widened before he ran towards the faint glow, trembling like a dying star's final breath. "What are you going on about?" He tried to keep the panic from his voice, but in all honesty, he didn't think he was doing such a good job. Not when he knew this was such a  _dumb_ idea to begin with and – _goddamnit, didn't he learn the first time?!_  When he reached an alcove, Jack groaned to withhold a scream; the light had uttered its last, leaving him sightless. He circled around, keeping hyperaware of everything around him. " _Who are you?"_

"That's a difficult question to answer." Sounded so close— _where_? "You've worked  _so_ hard though…so maybe I'll give you a hint." Jack shot forward as his back collided against something decidedly  _solid_ that was  _not_  dry wall. A chuckle this time, the sound sinking deep into his skin, biting like sharpened teeth. "That little episode in the ship really moved things along—"

Jack narrowed his eyes, pupils greedily absorbing the offered radiance. "Who are you? Who are you and what did you have to do with what happened on the ship!?"

He faced a figure, heavily cloaked and still as night. A sickly pale light pulsed from somewhere on their person, heralding calamity or the imminence of its end. "Everything…or nothing. And maybe something  _in between_." Jack didn't see a face, not with the heavy material obstructing his view… "But a hint, hahaha…as I promised: You and that  _boy_  are not the only ones who are not as they appear…"

What he saw were  _eyes_ —bright and vicious, glinting dangerously under the sickly glow. An alarming focus directed straight at him—demanding of something with furtive glee. Jack sucked in a breath, _knowing,_ just  _knowing_ deep within the blood that pulsed in his veins, despite the outcry that followed. "What do you— _are you the one that sent us here?!"_

There was amusement in that intense stare. " _Am I indeed?"_

And Jack  _hated_ it. Adrenaline trickling into his system and mind drunk on fury, he rushed to the figure, seizing the front of the robe with a violent wrench. " _Answer me!"_

Blue eyes widened as a hand gripped his arm painfully. "You're in no position to be making demands,  _boy_." With that, Jack was flung carelessly to the side, groaning as his back crashed into the wall. Those eyes shone with malice…perhaps madness. Perhaps both. "You haven't the  _power_  to do anything right now, do you?" There was almost a gleeful tone in those words and it sickened Jack to know that if this was to be his end, he had been the one to walk right into it.

The Guardian seethed but made no move from his crouched position, aching from the impact.

"Not  _yet_ , anyways…" The figure took a step forward, hissing the words into the dead air. "I know who you are  _Jack Frost._ "

Breathing heavily, the Guardian growled, " _No shit._ What do you want?"

"Funny…I was about to ask  _you_  the same thing…" Glacial blues widened as a wooden thud echoed throughout the near-darkness. Jack scrambled to pick up the Shepherd's crook— _his_ Shepherd's crook as it landed some feet before him. He gripped it, feeling a winter's chill seep into the very marrow of his bones. All the while, that sinister gaze never left him. "You know… a trip to the Pole wouldn't take you very long from here." Tentatively, Jack touched the wall, marveling at the trail of frost that sprawled across the surface not seconds later. "Nor a trip to the Warren…"  _His_   _powers_ —"…the Tooth Palace…" Jack gripped the staff, the familiar gnarls and swirls of the old wood like a friendly touch he had almost forgotten as he absorbed the figure's words. "…even  _Burgess_ —"

Jack's mind was reeling. "This…this  _is_ —"

" _Home_?" A cloaked head turned to Jack, unsurprised to find the staff's crook not five inches away. Nor Jack's near-silent gasp of disbelief. There was that bone-chilling laughter again before a hand lowered the staff, near chastising for the Guardian's efforts. "Now, now…did you really think you can use  _that_  against  _me?_ Honestly boy…can't you think of  _other_ uses for your powers? _"_

Ice coated the floor, spires of winter's wrath blooming like deadly thorns, beautiful and dangerous in display; but none drew near the still figure, glaring madly at the dread written so plainly across eyes of death's season, as though hellfire itself melted the frost away. Jack ground his teeth. "If…if you think for even a  _second_  that I'd leave Hiccup—"

" _I'll trust you know what to do…"_

In that utterance, a burst of light erupted, the staff almost searing his hand as the Guardian shielded his eyes. When the darkness had settled once more, his fingers found a smooth surface in place of the gnarled wood—an ebony cane in the crook's stead—and an empty alley, frost and rime scrawled across the bricks in a nervous dance. Still, the words echoed, though Jack stood alone, shivering at what it could mean.

" _This will end, Jack Frost._ _ **With**_ _—or_ _ **without**_ _you."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's the bad guy's debut, folks.
> 
> *- Máni is the personification of the moon, according to Norse mythology. I found it very interesting that MiM is also called Manny by North, sounding very much like the Norse variation.
> 
> Anastasia was very close to her sister Maria and they were often called "The Little Pair" while Olga and Tatiana were known as "The Big Pair." The sisters were close and often signed letters using the first letter of each of their names, becoming known as OMTA.
> 
> I don't think Jack and Hiccup ever really referred to the other as a Guardian or a Viking; those were just omniscient perspective descriptions. If I accidentally do so…well they know what each other is now so haha…let's go with that.
> 
> Yes, the purple dress Anya wore was from the fashion line Chanel. Do uhm…I have to put a disclaimer here? Erm…just in case…
> 
> I am not in any way affiliated with the trademark mentioned above, nor do I have intent to promote or obstruct sales of said brand.
> 
> -either I end this or this ends me-


	7. At the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! (or for some of us…Singles Awareness Day T v T) Here's the last of our Anastasia arc c:
> 
> Ever grateful for queenofyoursoda on tumblr for being a great beta as well as helping me through this messy ride. And a shoutout (as well as the offering of my soul T T ) to hope-for-snow for your support and kindness and hijackspace for the absolutely amazingly incredible edit for this fic! ;w; really you guys, thank you! You guys deserve all the love!
> 
> Warning: Some language; further divergence from "Anastasia" storyline.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but a laptop and certain plot elements.

 

Jack tapped the cane thoughtfully on the ground and absentmindedly crushed the icy structures that emerged due his frantic behavior. While having his powers back was decidedly a welcome advantage, the event leading up to their attainment left much to  _worry_  for. Nevertheless, that did little to hinder the beauty of it all; the city was an amazing distraction—despite trepid fears that the Guardian (rightfully) held to. The night was young and lights glimmered from every which-way in the Parisian atmosphere, a decadent evening bathed in hues of majesty and promise.

(( _Of deceit and truths unravelling at the seams._ ))

Ice flowed in his veins, but not quite from the budding anxiety of what had transpired mere hours before. After the figure had fled, Jack raced back to the boutique, visibly shaken if Hiccup's concerned stare told him anything. But with a shaky smile ( _'No, no—don't ruin this, he had such a good time tonight, he was smiling before you showed up looking like a wreck, don't ruin this for him, let him be excited happy for a bit longer.'_ ) he laughed off the panic and chaos that fell all around him and accepted with his heart racing a little rose offered by Hiccup, chagrined and blushing.

(( _Sweet and hopeful._ ))

And so he stood by the opulent entrance of the Paris Opera House alongside Vlad in the cool evening, Sophie once more having dragged Hiccup back towards  _another_  shop for this evening's attire. And yet again, the little princess was taken from him once more…

But Hiccup wasn't exactly  _his_ princess this time, was he?

_This will end, Jack Frost._

Vladimir paced nervously on the steps, up and down, left and right, and though the monotonous and routine movements would have irked Jack in the past, right now, they served as a good distraction from the maddening thoughts going 'round and 'round, hurricanes leaving disasters in its wake.

 _**With—** _ _or_ _**without** _ _you_ _**.** _

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, drowning the words with metronomic footfalls and heavy blustering. "We don't have anything to be nervous about, you know. Hiccup  _is_  the princess..."  _If things were going to end…_

Vladimir huffed, his nerves unrelenting. "I know, I  _know_  but..."

Jack laughed, a grin not quite reaching his eyes.  _He might as well start with this_ :"No, you  _don't_  know…" He breathed out a sigh, unlike a prayer; whatever came next, he'd have to be ready. "Vlad…I was the boy— in the palace. The one who opened the wall." He turned to the man, watching his eyes widen with realization and wonder. Jack looked away, the memory burning fiercely, a silent conviction written in his mind. "There's no mistaking it this time—Hiccup's the real thing."

The man's jaw dropped and suddenly he had to fight for breath. "That…that means our Hiccup has found her family!" A smile formed, incredulous but happy. So... _very_ happy. "We have found the heir to the  _Russian_   _throne_!" He turned to the young man, but at the look in his partner's eyes, his enthusiasm simmered to a somber sympathy. "And you…"

"Have a role to play," Jack finished, a quiet grit lacing his words. "And…will probably walk out of Hiccup's life forever." Because that was the end-game, wasn't it? If they were ever successful…Jack would never see Hiccup again. And as well as he came to know the spit-fire Viking and fire-spitting dragon, (—as much as it  _ached_  in his heart to know that—), there really was no other way.

"But..."

The Guardian gave him a wry grin, seeing the refuting look clearly written across the other's face. "C'mon, Vlad. Princesses  _don't_  marry kitchen boys." Not in real life. ' _And Guardians certainly don't marry Vikings.'_

"I know but...Dimitri—"

"We're going to go through with this." Jack turned to him, a rigid determination in his voice. This was their chance—their way  _out_. Not just Jack's…but it Hiccup's as well. "Nothing has changed."

_Except…_

Vladimir placed a hand on his shoulder, expression hardened with obstinacy. "You've  _got_  to tell her."

"Tell me  _what_ , exactly?"

((Do _you really want to let him go?_ ))

With a jolt, Jack turned, breath stuttering. And not just because he was almost caught.

"How…how beautiful you look," he murmured.

Hiccup flushed, highlighting the galaxies scattered across his cheeks. The auburn found great interest in the floor right then as his lips twitched in a small smile, the gems dangling from his ears swaying as he turned his head. "Upgraded from just ' _good_ ,' then?"

Jack grinned, taking his arm and taking in the sight of the pinking princess. "In that? Definitely."

Vlad sighed, his eyes trailing to the pair, making their way to the entrance—an unspoken emotion hanging between them and a most bitter of romances unfurling. He turned to his beloved, a heavy melancholy breathed into the evening air. "Ah, Sophie…" With a mournful hang of his head, his thoughts were directed back to practiced waltzes and soft gazes. "I should have never let them dance."

.

Hiccup was only mildly astounded that he made it halfway up the grand staircase with the gown's silhouette and length threatening to topple him over. He flushed as the material hugged his lithe form, feeling discomfited with the fit as well as the exposure; it wasn't as though Berk's weather ever let showing so much skin be practical. He swallowed, taking slower steps; the glimmering diamonds against his throat and collar cooled his skin as he felt a mild blush creep down his neck as he noted stares from around him.

When Jack finished with the coat check, he turned looked about him to find where Hiccup had run off to; after hastily shedding the large and furry garment and stuffing it in Jack's arms, he was given little time to actually see the boy underneath it. And when he finally did as he turned to the stairs, his mind all but blanked.

He was staring; he knew that. It was rude, was probably freaking Hiccup out, but it wasn't as though he  _chose_ that moment to be a complete and utter cliché and nearly fall over himself at the sight of the Viking. And…in all honesty, would anyone blame him?  _Blue_ —dark as midnight—wrapped his frame, a sheer shroud trailing after him like a dusk's dream; white gloves fitted over the curve of his elbow, fitting against delicate fingers, glimmering jewels adorned delicately over the curve of his neck and swaying from his ears as he turned to Jack —and his  _eyes_  a deep, forest green that— _oh shit he's looking back._

Hiccup raised a brow and Jack could practically  _feel_ the rush of blood snaking its way to his face.

"Uh…you might wanna…pick your jaw up from the floor there," Hiccup pointed out, the slightest of smiles on his lips.

Spell broken. Jack grinned, not even affording to be sheepish. He jogged through the steps to catch up to the auburn, eyes lingering on the freckles trailing down his shoulders. "Sorry…I… _wow_ , haha…" Jack turned the cane over in his hand, throat dry. "Sophie really decked you out, huh?"

Hiccup shrugged, but the nonchalance was ruined by the vivid rouge on his cheeks. "Gotta make an impression." ' _Impress you did,'_  a very annoying part of Jack's brain supplied. "Look the part, you know?"

Once more, taking his arm— _when did it start becoming so natural?_ —Jack gave a reassuring smile. "Well…you certainly do, Princess."

Hiccup decided to take the compliment rather than be irked at the title, letting himself be steadily guided to the theater, unbeknownst of a line of patrons swooning at the lovely couple.

.

Had Hiccup been in his right mind, maybe he'd be a bit calmer. Maybe. But right now, he was currently sharing some aspects of his mentality with Anya, her apprehensions and fears beginning that paralytic effect as every step grew heavier and heavier with doubt. His mind reached blindly for an anchor, a memory, a sensation, anything to keep his thoughts collected and focused. Incidentally, he did the same physically, grabbing a hold of Jack's hand and fingers, seeking that same warm reassurance offered to him in a waltz, a train ride, and one stormy night.

It had been so natural then, their fingers interlocked, a surprising balminess pulsing between their palms. It had been easy because he had been scared out of his mind. Vikings weren't the comforting sort; affection transpired between clasps on shoulders and rare but violent hugs. The change…had been strange then…strange, but nice.

"Jack… I— _!?_ "

Not this time though.

Hiccup's eyes barely had time to widen before a searing chill ran down his arm, pulling back from the other boy. Hiccup removed the glove, swallowing hard at the sight of a thin layer of ice curling around the silken material. Entranced, baffled, and very much shocked, he barely noticed the world fall silent around them.

"S-sorry! Oh…God, I— _sorry_." Jack silently cursed, apprehensively approaching the other boy. "I…I'm still getting used to having them back…"

Hiccup marveled at the glove, trailing a hand against the material and waiting tentatively for body heat to melt the delicate patterns away. "You…you were  _serious_ … _Jökul_   _Frosti_ …" Jack swallowed at his tone;  _awe, wonder_ —not fear. But Hiccup's eyes were searching for answers. "When—?"

Jack hung his head; Hiccup was bound to know sooner or later. "Earlier." At the imploring look from the brunet, Jack bit the inside of his cheek. "Hours ago."

" _Hours?!"_  Jack winced at the volume; with the rest of the space utterly silent, the outraged words reverberated unsettlingly. "Why didn't you  _tell_  me—Jack, wha—"

"This is my world, Hiccup."

And Hiccup's thoughts stuttered to a halt.

Mouthing the words but nothing sounding out, the best the Viking could give in that moment was a whispered, "But…"

"I don't get it either," Jack murmured, fingers trailing along the smooth surface of the cane, fingers missing the sensation of splintery ridges and aged whorls.

Gathering himself, the auburn turned to Jack, breathing erratic and thoughts flying a thousand miles a second. "You said she  _died_ ," Hiccup demanded.

Jack couldn't even meet his eyes. "I thought so too…"

 _All those memories…_ In the back of his mind, Hiccup never thought he'd ever find clothing that were actually  _tight_ on him (minus the corset), but right now, he was finding it very difficult to breathe. "…Am I really…?"  _Were they even real?_

Hiccup found a strong grip on his shoulders and Jack gazing back earnestly. "You  _are._  You are. I know it."

He shrugged off the other's hold, anger flaring. "Why didn't you tell me you got your powers back sooner?" He ignored the way Jack recoiled at the reprimand. "Didn't it occur to you that this could be—" _Dread_. Sheer, cold  _dread_  flooded his veins. His eyes widened, disbelief glaring back. ' _A way out.'_ "Y- _you_ —"

Jack looked stricken and Hiccup regretted the thought immediately. "I would  _never_ leave you here, Hiccup!"

The bare hurt written across the Guardian's face made shame burn in his cheeks and clench in his chest. He forced the words, something hollow and wooden in them despite how true he knew them to be. "I know Jack." Why…why was he feeling so uncertain about this? But Hiccup swallowed the lump in his throat and returned Jack's gaze. "It's your turn now…talk to me. What happened?"

The Guardian sighed followed by a breath. "I was attacked." At the spike of panic in those green eyes, Jack back-pedaled immediately. "No—wait—it wasn't…so much as that!" Hiccup glared, demanding a straight answer and of course, Jack relented. "Someone cornered me…I think the very person put us both through this." Though the auburn kept quiet, Jack saw the tensing of his jaw and the narrowing of his eyes. He gripped the cane's neck, forcing himself to calm before the whole theater erupted in rime. "…Then I got my powers back. Just…threw the staff to me and all of a sudden, I had them back….I couldn't use them to get more answers, though." Jack bit back the bitterness. "Escaped," he murmured.

Hiccup's mind was reeling. "When...specifically  _when_  did this happen?"

"Around…the time I got  _this_." He held out the ebony cane, the faintest slivers of ice enclosed about it. He gave a wan smile. "Must've…modified it to fit the time-period, huh?"

But Hiccup didn't return it. "Why didn't you  _tell_  me?"

It might've been the dumbest logic he'd ever followed, because although he had an inkling of a clue as to how this story would end, Jack knew a large part of him refrained from telling the Viking because of an even  _dumber_ excuse: ' _I didn't want to be the reason why your smile and that light in your eyes faded tonight.'_  But he certainly couldn't say all that; this would do instead: "So much was going on a-and you looked like you were enjoying yourself for once; I—"

Hiccup shook his head violently, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Yeah, but  _this_  is more important! You have your powers  _and_  you know this is your world—you could  _leave ,_ get help from your friends—"

"And have everything  _stop_? I might have my powers, but that's no use if time is the one doing the freezing." He drew back regarding the disquieted boy before him. "I  _won't_ leave you here. If something happened to you—"

" _Do not_ treat me like I wouldn't be able to defend myself," the Viking snarled.

Jack groaned in frustration. "It's  _not_  about that! Don't you think that's  _exactly_ what they want?"

But Hiccup regarded him with muted rage—not wholly directed at  _him_ , but enough for Jack to flinch. "It's a gamble…but we can't keep going on like this. If that's what it'll come to— _fine_. Some nutcase gives you back your powers? It must be for a  _reason."_  Occupational hazards…did that really count when they were completely due to choice, error in judgment, overlooked through sheer desperation? "No, Jack…I…I want to risk this." Softly, but with a pain that Jack himself could echo, the auburn murmured, " _I want to go home…"_

 _This was a trap_.

Jack knew it. Hiccup knew it. But what choice did they have? They merely played along, abiding by a script that they had no control over.

_But this…_

Jack highly doubted  _this_ bit was as scripted as tracking down the Viking with a shoe.

"We have a story to finish, Hiccup." The words flowed back, tides creeping along the shore before it pulled back to the recesses of his mind. "' _This will end._ ' With…or without me."

"What?"

Jack tore his gaze from irises of green. "The one who gave me back my powers said that. You're…you're meant to finish this, Hiccup.  _You're_ the princess here. Me? I'm no one." Why…why was that so painful to say? And why did his heart squeeze with the tiniest glimmer of joy when Hiccup looked like he was about to disagree? "I can get help. After you're crowned as the princess by the Dowager Empress." And almost bitterly, he added, "Or when you meet your prince."

"Jack, you're—"

"No prince…" Jack gently reminded. Gingerly, he brought a cool hand cup the other's cheek, something like longing beating sadly in his chest. "This one's not a story, Hiccup."

He was only mildly surprised when a gloved hand came to rest on his arm, head nuzzling into his cold touch with confusion and worry. "But…you said she  _died_."

(( _Trust and vulnerability._ ))

 _Lovely_. Hiccup…looked lovely then. Of course. He was a princess, after all. And Dimitri…"Maybe they were wrong…maybe she was found…and lived happily-ever-after." Wasn't meant to be with her.

At that, Hiccup broke away from the other's touch. "But—"

(( _Is it really happily-ever-after—_ ))

"I'll try to find a way, okay? When you— _Anastasia_ is back with who she belongs. I'll go—find North, Sandy, Tooth, even Bunnymund if I absolutely have to." He took a gloved hand, lightly trembling in his grip despite Hiccup's guarded expression that only betrayed distress and uncertainty in mirrors of green. "And I'll come back for you… _I promise_."

((— _without you?_ ))

"I know…" The response was automatic, the words breathed between them and left open in the air, perhaps meaning nothing. Perhaps meaning everything. Jack felt his heart skip a beat; he wouldn't let Hiccup down. Not after all this time—not after the  _trust_ he had been given. But still, those troubling emotions didn't lighten, disasters storming behind sharp green eyes. "But Jack… _who_ gave you your powers back?"

And that was one answer Jack couldn't give. "I don't know…some nut in a robe."

.

Patrons trickled into the dimming room as Hiccup regarded the magnificent hall; draped with reds and golds, the theater itself appeared to be aflame with majesty and enchantment. Many times, Jack fought back a smile as he tugged Hiccup's hand as they moved towards their seats, the auburn pausing many times to admire the scene with unmitigated awe. Meanwhile, the patrons were mired by their own admiration towards a pretty auburn swathed in midnight shades.

"Quite something, isn't it?" Vladimir murmured, smiling at the sheer wonderment in those glittering Romanov blues.

"Yeah," Hiccup breathed, taking a seat beside Jack. He cleared his throat, a hushed reminder to let the Guardian know that yes, he can very much stop holding his hand like he were a toddler now.

"Ah—sorry." Still, it took maybe a second-too-long for Jack to unwrap his fingers from the other, grin just a tad strained at the befuddled stare he received from eyes like summer's end. Averting that gaze, Jack's attention turns to something else—a pair of dignified, refined ladies in the box seats to the left; as though reading his thoughts, Sophie turned in his direction, flashing him a knowing smile. He nudged the other boy and handed him a pair of opera glasses. "Look—there's our empress."

At that, Hiccup froze. Aiming the glasses towards where the Guardian had indicated, his breath hitched.

A memory— _was it really?—_ flickered through his thoughts, bright lights, elegance, the grace of dancers and the graceful twirl of skirts winters ago where cold and darkness were shut out from the warmth and light of a childhood dream.

(( _And a song someone sings—_ ))

" _Please_ ," he breathed, a prayer left to the magic of the night. "Let her  _remember_ …"

(( _Once upon a—_ ))

The lights dimmed and music wafted through the hall.

Jack glanced at the program. He paused, rereading the title delicately scripted before him. He proceeded to repeat the process again and again until he was sure it couldn't  _possibly_ be right and what he was experiencing was a mere mental lapse. Still, to make sure, he placed the pamphlet in Hiccup's hands, finger jabbing at the performance. "Is…is that what—"

Hiccup raised a brow and before he could even glance down at what Jack could possibly be indicating, the curtains rose and Hiccup's face fell at the all-too familiar sight that greeted him. "Oh  _Gods_ …"

The pamphlet fluttered to the floor between them, the elegant scrawl of  _Cinderella_ discarded.

They froze for a second, eyes wide, mouths hung open—openly gawking as the scene unfolded before them. And perhaps a moment later, after jaws clicked closed and a few seconds of staring at the play blankly, someone cracked a smile and the other hid their face in disbelief. And it wasn't entirely known who, but one of the two snorted, the other snickered, and before long, they burst into laughter, not at all mindful of the glaring patrons beside them.

Jack coughed, entirely unsuccessful in covering his wide grin. "Someone…someone  _really_  doesn't like us." At the sharp choruses of " _shhh!"_ from all around them, as well as with Vlad's unsubtle cough, the pair silenced themselves in the face of the cruel irony.

Nevertheless, the two shared a winded smile, hand brushing against the other's as Jack snickered in the dim lights and Hiccup elbowing him when his sly voice added that he wouldn't look too bad in a tutu. And they watched on, groaning with discomfiture at the memories evoked as the premier danseur and prima ballerina waltzed with flawless grace. And maybe Jack made another jab about their misadventures ("And to think, I could've gotten away bruise-free if it weren't for your metal foot.") and maybe Hiccup kicked him with the iron appendage for good measure at the jab, but there it was—a  _reprieve_.

It might've been; it was far too dark to be able to see quick glances of blue eyes darting between the ballet and the auburn beside him and the lights offered little to distinguish the flush of pink in Hiccup's cheeks as Cinderella and her Prince shared a loving gaze, a lingering touch; and the orchestra was far too loud to be able to hear the twin heartbeats in tune with one another as a classic fairytale unfolded before them.

It wasn't clear…but in that moment, when Hiccup rested his arm against Jack and when Jack mused how despite the bruising process, he much preferred his and Hiccup's waltz to the couple onstage, maybe whoever sent them here didn't exactly  _hate_  them after all.

_A reprieve…or a sweet spring breeze to herald unforgiving summer storms._

.

The cheer from the crowd drowned the hall and light bathed the audience with its startling glare, reminding many that the fantasy had ended. Bitter beginnings and sweet endings were a thing of tales—and perhaps if one wished to meet such after hardship and strife, one's direction could only be guided by decision alone. Or perhaps, a sly hand dealt destiny, never quite fair, never quite unfair, but a figure that selected her victims and victors with a dizzied finger as her wheel spun 'round and 'round.

Whichever it was, Jack figured that it was about time to close this chapter. He turned to Hiccup, gently taking his hand. "Come on. I guess it's time."  _With or without him_. Still, he gave the auburn a reassuring smile though a bitterness burned in his heart. "Relax—you're gonna be great."

.

In the house, some feet away from entering the Dowager Empress's mezzanine, Hiccup didn't seem to take Jack's words to heart; not with the way he had been pacing back and forth, anyways.

Jack watched bemusedly, only chasing after the auburn when he trekked all the way down the hall without any indication of turning back. "Hey, hey, hey—it's  _okay_." He guided the shaky boy back to the direction of the balcony, slowing as Hiccup resisted the movements. He turned the Viking towards him, eyes meeting the trepid look in green irises. His expression softened. "Take a deep breath," he instructed, only mildly surprised that Hiccup actually listened, albeit with a sardonic reluctance, letting out a steady stream. "You okay now?"

He gave a quick nod, looking away. "Yeah…just…butterflies."

Jack grinned. "I thought  _I_ was supposed to give you those?"

Hiccup snorted, but Jack was pretty sure he saw a smile on him somewhere. "I'm pretty sure that was only the ' _nauseas'_  part."

.

Standing before the antechamber, in retrospect, shouldn't have been quite so frightful of an experience. Yet here Hiccup was: nerves fried and blood running cold as though he were before the gates of the Kill Ring all those months ago. Except…it wasn't Astrid there, forcing him to make a promise he couldn't very well keep before his near-demise. It was Jack.

He motioned for Hiccup to stay put. "Wait here just a moment. I'll go in and announce you." And he didn't seem to be making him promise anything.

"Jack—"

He stilled, turning back. "Yeah?" Funny thing was…Hiccup wasn't really sure why he stopped him in the first place.

So, as per usual, Hiccup—"Look, we've been through a lot together..." – babbled.

"We have…" Jack continued, a questioning gaze set on the Viking.

His face was heating up, wasn't it? "…and I just wanted to..."

"Yes?" Did Jack move closer?

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Hiccup decided that if he really had nothing to say at all, he might as well say anything and everything. "...well, thank you I guess. Yeah, thanks…for— _everything_." Because really? He owed that to Jack. For his help…and for being there. For everything.

The Guardian gave a befuddled smile, but it was a smile nevertheless. "Don't worry Hiccup…no one's dying here, all right?"

Hiccup bit back a retort; knowing their luck, or at the very least,  _his_ , that presumption could be argued.

Jack was about to take his leave, but he paused at the last moment before turning back again to the Viking. "Hiccup, I..."

"Yes?"

This was ridiculous; Hiccup already played the ' _I have something important to tell you but I chickened out at the last minute'_  card. "I'm...I..."

" _Yes_?" the auburn pressed.

"I—" there was a lot he could say, really. Even if Hiccup did take the ' _thanks for everything'_  bit. He could have very well said, ' _You look beautiful tonight,'_  except he already said that, or ' _We'll be okay,'_  except he sorta said that too, or maybe even, ' _Please don't get into any trouble while I turn my back for five minutes,'_  but he'd probably a scowl and a glare for that. So, in sight of his dwindling verbal arsenal, Jack merely managed to let out a, "Good luck..." while many other words were locked behind his lips, many of which he couldn't even begin to understand himself.

.

When he caught sight of Sophie, the woman's eyes brightened and a smile drew from her lips. It occurred to Jack that Sophie had been waiting for this time for longer than Jack had realized. And the Dowager Empress even more so. "Please inform her majesty, The Dowager Empress, that I have found her granddaughter..." Jack could only imagine how  _she_  must feel. "...the Grand Duchess Anastasia. She's waiting to see her just outside the door."

Sophie nodded, giving Jack a knowing look and a very unconvincing response, mindful of her cousin behind the curtain. "I'm very sorry young man but the Dowager Empress—she will see  _no_  one."

Overhearing this, Marie turned to the drawn curtain; rage burned in her aged eyes. "You may  _tell_  that  _impertinent_  young man that I have seen enough Grand Duchess Anastasias to last me a lifetime." She turned to the empty theater, eyes no longer trained on zealous hopes and wishes, but instead on keeping the icy grip of solitude at bay. ' _No more…'_  she reminded herself.

Hearing the disgust in her cousin's voice, Sophie faltered. She looked to Jack, confidence in her choice fleeing her. "Um…maybe it's best if you—"

Jack shook his head, insisting, " _Please_ , let me just..."

"Now if you'll  _excuse_  me I wish to live the remainder of my lonely life in  _peace_ ," came the scathing voice behind her.

(( _Pained. Manipulated. Used._ ))

At that, Sophie took a breath. This was for Marie—no matter what her cousin thought afterwards. She gave Jack one last hopeful smile—rueful, perhaps, before making her way to the door, calling out, "Come, I'll see you to the door! Come, come now, come to the door."

Understanding, Jack ducked behind the curtain as Sophie shut the entry behind her. He turned to the woman, withered and aged with many harsh years, yet maintaining every ounce of regality in her blood and in her practice. "Your majesty, I intend you no harm. My name is— Dimitri... I…used to work at the palace."

Still refusing to look at him, the woman sighed. "Well, that's one I haven't heard, I must say." And right as Jack figured that it might be  _something_ at least, she rose from her seat, unheeding of his presence.

"Wait, don't go please—if you'll just hear me out!"

"I  _know_  what you're after. I've seen it before." And when she did return his gaze, he shrank at the sheer contempt he met. "Men who train young women in the royal ways." The Dowager Empress reached for a velvet rope, giving a harsh tug; she was sending someone on their way.

Jack knew he didn't have much time. "But if Your Highness will just listen!"

"Haven't you been  _listening_? I've had  _enough_!" Jack halted, falling silent as the woman turned to him. "I don't  _care_  how much you have fashioned this girl to  _look_  like her,  _sound_  like her or  _act_  like her." Try as she might, the pain was still there; searing her heart and choking her throat. "In the end, it  _never_  is her."

But Jack had to try anyways. "This time it  _is_  her!"

" _Dimitri_ …" A shiver ran down his spine. Her eyes sharpened, disgust roiling in her words. "I've heard of  _you_. You're that  _con man_  from St. Petersburg who was holding auditions to find an Anastasia look-a-like."

.

Hiccup choked a gasp, ear pressed to the slight opening.

' _The princess-hunts?'_

He sucked in a breath, calming the thundering in his chest and the ache that resounded so strongly. It…made sense. Because…this was Dimitri she was talking about, not  _Jack._ They weren't the  _same._

' _You'll find that it's not so different from your own_ — _'_

But  _no,_ he wouldn't doubt him. Because, yes, maybe Jack was  _right_ —about everything. And…it  _hurt_.

_No—not a prince. Used her—used him—not a happy ending—not for them._

_._

"But Your Grace, we've come all the way from Russia just to see you—"

"— And others have come from  _Timbuktu_!" she snapped.

Jack grimaced. "No, it's not that! It's not what you think!"

Her eyes, doused with misery and ignited with fury, glared back at the Guardian, unwilling to hear any more. "How much  _pain_  will you inflict on an old woman for  _money_?" ' _No—no more. No more thieves, no more impostors—no more hope.'_ And when the guards arrived, she felt no remorse as she spoke her command. "Remove him at once!"

Still, the ache remained. Its withered thorns drove deeper, a hopeless love, a meaningless faith that had run its last course, its venom steadily seeping to numb her heart.

.

Jack struggled, writhing and twisting about to free himself from the guard's grip, but their resolve was as unrelenting as his own stubbornness. "But she  _is_  Anastasia, I'm telling you, she's the Grand Duchess! If you'll only speak to her, you'll see!"

He braced himself from the landing, the guards as unaffected from his words—the words of a  _nobody_ , the words of someone  _unworthy_ , the words of someone who held no importance and simply  _did not belong_. He barely managed to quell those thoughts a moment longer, long enough to keep him fighting—but it wasn't really a fight, was it? An argument took two people, but it was plain to see that the Dowager Empress refused to even hear his claim. With a final shove, Jack was thrown out of the mezzanine, landing by a curtain of midnight blue.

But the voice was too quiet, too soft, as though concealing something else in their meaning. "You said you were looking for a princess."

 _He's hurt,_ Jack realized. And with that, the Guardian scrambled to his feet. "Hiccup, Iwas looking for  _you_!" A step forward; another step back. No,  _no_ —this wasn't what was supposed to happen. Hiccup— _Anastasia—_ was supposed to meet her, the Dowager Empress, finally  _belong—_ have a  _family_ —finish this tale, finish this tale so they could go  _home_ , home to Burgess and his lake, to the other Guardians and his season. "It—it wasn't my idea, you know that… _right_?"

"You…" Hiccup swallowed, shivering despite the distance he placed between himself and the Spirit of Winter. "You didn't really…go over that detail…"

Jack shook his head, bursts of breath coming out in toppling staccatos, eyes pleading. "Hiccup, I'm  _sorry_ …I—"

Something seized him, a sharp pain threatening to burst—"My chest hurts Jack…"  _–shame, anger, betrayal—_ "I think…I think I need some air."— _doubt, distrust, disappointment_. "Seriously Jack, I'm sorry but if you come any closer, I  _will_ make you regret it."

Hues of summer storms clouded those green eyes, and Jack closed the distance between them anyways, gripping the other's form tightly, his skin urging for the other to come back, to come back to him and not to lose his way. "Hiccup— Go back to Sophie's… _please_  I have a plan." And this was  _wrong_ —so much of this was wrong, but Jack could make it  _right_ —he would; for him and for Hiccup. He drew away, keeping the Viking at arm's length, desperate for an answer and terrified of its consequence. "You trust me…don't you?" ' _Please, please tell me you do—that you still do—I wouldn't use you, not like him, I wouldn't leave you—not like him_.'

There was no smile on his face, eyes dulled with resignation. "It's…not like I have much of a choice."

Those weren't the words Jack wanted to hear. His splintering heart was proof enough of that.

.

Jack would rather not go into detail about the episode that occurred afterwards; in his defense, he had never handled a steering wheel—let alone utilized it to  _drive_ a vehicle. The night got very interesting, if he said so himself; he felt a little bad for Ilya, the man he surreptitiously shoved out of the way to hijack the royal's vehicle—but after the nightmare he'd been through, he supposed that a  _lot_ worse could have happened to the chauffeur.

 _Like getting trapped in some twisted slew of fairy tales, meeting a Viking and his dragon who ends up as his princess—_ most of the time _—having to_ kiss  _him,_ marry him, _and almost_ die _for him—and ending up becoming sort-of-friends before fucking things over with one tiny slip-up that_ wasn't even his fault— _and_ "driving"  _a runaway vehicle_ (that in truth, is really just skating along a path of ice Jack had conjured after he stamped on the accelerator— _thank you, mysterious and evil creature that landed him in this_ mess for at least equipping him with the tools to at least clean up the messes he'd been thrown headfirst into)  _towards a noble's estate where the aforementioned Viking_ (who may or may not be talking to him right now)  _is probably brooding up a storm, no thanks to the role he's playing…and his as well._

As they approached the address (read: slipped and slid through trails of ice), the car slammed to a stop. With all persons and limbs intact, maybe Fate was on his side in this after all.

When Jack opened the passenger's door only to reveal a thin-lipped Marie, Jack gave an aggravated sigh. "You  _have_  to talk to her! Just  _look_  at her.  _Please_!"

Nevertheless, the royal remain unperturbed. "I won't be badgered by you a moment longer."

The Guardian grit his teeth but bit back a scathing retort. Instead, he severely hoped this was worth the trip back from Sophie's from the Opera House and back as he fished a certain object from his pocket. "Do you recognize this?"

The woman barely had time to blink before the man before her thrust the small object in her hands—eyes widening in recognition of something she believed to have been lost to her long ago. Delicately, she cradled the music box to her aching heart, lovingly like a bittersweet memory.

Quietly, awed and skeptical all the same, she gasped. "Where did you get this?"

Jack softened at her tone, watching as she trailed a glove hand along the contours of emerald and gold. And he understood too—Dimitri had been right all along; one look was all it would take. "I know you've been hurt. But…it's just possible that she's been as lost and alone as you."

With a ghost of a smile, chagrined and perhaps even daring to hope for just one night, she turned to him. "You'll stop at nothing, will you?"

Jack returned it with a grin of his own. "I'm probably about as stubborn as you are." Against himself, he couldn't help but adding, "Which means you two will get along just fine."

.

This was humiliating.

Not only had he walked out of there like a complete fool and retreated back to his room like he had been struck down by enemy lines that Jack had to stop by the house to check on him as he retrieved something from the house, but those mopey and prickly feelings still  _refused_ to leave.

It was  _fine_. Ja— _Dimitri_ used hi— _HER._  Hiccup had a feeling the whole thing was a scam from the beginning—and even  _if_ he had turned a blind eye to the falsified documents, the conditioning, the  _endless_ _Princess-related_   _trivia_ , it…was fairly obvious, wasn't it? That…this character Jack played was as honest as a Changewing's scales and was as trustworthy as a knife in Dagur's hands. So, it wasn't a surprised— _shouldn't_ be a surprise—because Hiccup knew all along, knew that there was profit to be gained, knew that they had  _roles_ to play that they didn't want, that were thrust upon them—

But it still  _hurt._ It hurt as he was driven home, hurt as he stripped off his gloves and curled around himself in bed, Toothless nuzzling into his stomach, hurt as he looked at that dumb flower Jack gave him—so much so that he threw the thing in the trash after glaring at it for a solid ten minutes—and even hurt when Jack had knocked on his door and whispered apologies that he needn't had to, thinking Hiccup was asleep (really Jack? At  _that_  hour?) and it hurt as Jack left, off to instigate whatever hell-ward plan he had in store.

For some unfathomable, unshakable, and unrelenting reason— _it hurt_.

(( _Because it was different—wasn't it? It was different because you were fa—_ ))

A quick knock to the door at least relieved the daunting thoughts that flooded the silence. Still, that didn't mean that Hiccup was up for company right now. At another knock, louder this time, Hiccup groaned as Toothless, startled from his light doze, trotted towards the door. "Not  _now_ , Jack..."

And at the sound of the knob turning and the hinges creaking open, the Viking rolled over to his side, readying a tired glare at the late visitor.

Only for Hiccup to nearly fall flat on his face at the sight of the figure that greeted him. After flailing for perhaps three seconds, Hiccup managed to find himself on his feet, blue dress sweeping the bottom of Sophie's carpeted floor. There was no incriminating presence of a Night Fury in the room to be found which only made Hiccup take a wild guess as to how she got in the room in the first place. "O-oh, I'm sorry. I... I thought you were..."

The Dowager Empress stepped forward, assessing the woman before her with a distant gaze. "I know very well who you thought I was." Hiccup gulped as her eyes sharpened, steely blue clashing with dazed green. "Who exactly are you?"

A wandering hand came to gently stroke the pendant hanging from his neck. "I...I was actually hoping you could tell me."

At the evasive answer, the woman sighed. "My dear, I'm old…and I'm tired of being  _conned_  and  _tricked_."

"I don't want to do any of that to you." And that was the truth. Role or not, Hiccup wouldn't do that. But he  _knew_ that this wasn't the case. He just had to make them both see it—the Dowager Empress…and Anya.

"And I suppose the money doesn't interest you either?" She took a seat, still too reserved, still too guarded, still too unwilling.

"I…" Hiccup choked a gasp. Memories flooded—half-broken, half-formed, half-remembered, half-forgotten. When he opened his eyes, a half-melody settled into the air, sapphires of an imperial line gazing back at the Dowager Empress with solemn longing. "I just want to know who I am whether or not I belong to a family… _your_  family."

At that, she stood. "You're a very good actress. The best yet, in fact." No,  _no_   _more_. "But I've had enough." She promised to see this girl and she did. And something in her soul seared with a phantom pain, not quite disappointment, not quite ire, but something that burned like tears from waking after the happiest of dreams to a morning of loss and broken memories for bitter company.

It was best to leave. It was time she laid her hopes to rest. And this time—it was  _final._ She swept past the girl and towards the door, knowing that her soul would be laid to rest before she ever felt the warm embrace of her Anastasia, Maria, Alexei, Olga, or Tatiana, heard the laughter from her Nikki, or beheld the beauty of his bride, Alexandria.

And for Hiccup—he knew the moment she walked out the door,  _he'd_ have been the one to let Jack down. Jack had done his part—played his role. The con man that brought the true Princess to her surviving family and the…friend that had guided him through trouble and turmoil (and saved him from a freak near-drowning episode)—and through it all? He does trust in Jack; the fact that that he allowed  _her_ to take over was proof enough. " _Peppermint_..."

Marie paused, the statement deigning a mild explanation. "An oil for my hands."

Anya sighed, closing her eyes, the smell evoking a faint image, a lingering sensation, and a scent that connected the separate pieces together. "Yes... I spilled a bottle... The carpet was soaked. And it forever smelled of peppermint!" Pools of Romanov blue looked to the woman beside her. "Like…you."

Words failed her as she gazed at the young woman continuing to speak, emotion genuine as the surprised that sparked in her eyes.

"I used to lie there on the rug and oh, how I missed you when you went away..." And meeting her gaze, terror and happiness at war in her heart, nearly tore at the seams when she uttered these words: "When you came here. To Paris."

Blinking away the burning in her eyes, her stare trailed to the necklace between the young woman's fingers. "What is that?"

Her fingers froze, a sheepish look at having been caught performing the same pacifying action. "I've always had it... Ever since before I can remember."

Wavering for just a second, Marie reached forward, all reasoning gone and only a blind sliver of hope to tether her on solid ground. "May I?" And just maybe—that was enough.

She held out her palm as Anya unwound the chain from her neck, placing the glittering key of emeralds and rubies in shaky hands.

Tears welled in her eyes—was it joy or was it heartbreak?—as she turned the pendant on its back, her own words inscribed in gold, bared before her. Taking the music box from her evening bag, she looked to this young woman— _daring_  to hope. "It was our  _secret_. My Anastasia's—and mine..." She held it out for the lady to take: a final test.

Recognition sparked in her eyes and Marie's heart nearly stopped beating its broken tune as a new song drifted into the night; of an unsteady and unsure hum from this young woman's lips, a tune that had only teased her in dreams and taunted her in the loneliest hours. In the young lady's delicate hands, she turned to the lock and pressed the key to the hidden opening, winding the instrument as she murmured the lyrics of a shared melody.

" _Hear this song and remember…"_

Tears streamed down Marie's face as she joined her Anastasia in their lullaby.

_Soon you'll be home with me_

' _Once Upon a December'..."_

And Fate…fate was quite wicked, wasn't it? Years of devotion to blind faith granted naught but pain, discouragement, and disappointment, and only when there was no hope left to waste and only a heart to be irreparably broken to forfeit…that dismal and damning road comes to an end—a long-cherished wish granted by the arbitrary push and pulls of actions and reactions of the nebulous universe.

It made discovery possible; it made loss agonizing; it made love strong; and it made faith turn topsy-turvy on itself, as though the wicked crone atop her Wheel only granted wild whims when you least expected it.

And for Marie, that made years of misery worth this one second of wonderment as she threw her arms over her granddaughter and her returning the embrace with mirrored happiness. "Oh  _Anastasia_!  _My_ Anastasia!"

.

Jack sighed to the night, a small flurry of flakes scattering to the winds. He looked up to the brightened room in Sophie's house, daring a glance at the window. He smiled to himself as he blew a kiss that he wouldn't be able to give and walked away.

.

Despite it all, and despite this being the 9th time he had been forced into a dress, Hiccup really didn't think there was any getting used to it. He seriously  _would_ chew off his last foot if that ever became the case.

He groaned as he was instructed, yet again, by the seamstress to " _Hold still!"_  before another needle found its way jabbed into his hip. Really? He much preferred the Fairy God Mother's method to… _this_. He had been standing here, getting measured and being poked and prodded—all for tonight's celebration.

Because this was a time to celebrate, after all. The Princess finally made her way home. She was where she  _belonged_.

Yet…why didn't Hiccup  _feel_  that way?

A tiny prick to his side reminded him to fix his stance.

It was another hour before the woman stepped back, satisfied. Toothless looked up, warbling at his partner with a gummy smile.

And when Sophie arrived at the seamstress's call, she gave a delighted clap as she eyed him, head encased in a glittering crown (that threatened to slip off at the slightest tilt) and golden ball gown hugging his petite figure. The material glittered with majesty and seemed to carry itself with prominence and regality; it felt…so alien to him. He twirled before the full-length mirror— _because the seamstress asked him to, of course!—_  and feigned wonderment. Because, in reality, perhaps if he had acquired more…feminine tastes, he could say the dress was  _beautiful._ But that gnawing emotion still made it feel  _off._ Testing the weight of the dress, and sighing with relief to find that they had not added another ten pounds for him to lug around, he crossed the floor, upon Sophie's insistence that he practice royal greeting.

It wasn't too hard maneuvering with the gown. The voluminous skirt swept to the floor, a form reminiscent to him, of his midnight dance with a prince—a wish his heart made, once upon a dream.

 _Jack_ …

And maybe…that had something to do with it.

.

Jack didn't really expect to see her again. "You…sent for me, Your Grace?"

Before him, the Dowager Empress stood, a valise filled with money beside her. "Ten million rubles... As promised, with my gratitude."

There was nearly a smile at that. "I accept your gratitude, Your Highness." And…because it  _felt right_ to say it, he did: "But…I don't want the money."

Marie walked to him, something knowing in her eyes, but skepticism written in the lines of her face. "What  _do_  you want, then?"

It wasn't a memory this time—not the way Hiccup described it and not the way he felt it last time; it flopped uselessly in his chest and managed to wring an ache in his chest and a fatalistic bitterness in his thoughts. "Unfortunately…nothing you can give." He should leave; he should have left that night—

"Young man." – but he didn't. Jack turned to the Dowager Empress as she spoke. "Where did you get that music box?" For that, Jack left silence to answer for him. Marie crossed to the room, a memory sparked in her eyes, knowing, filled with befuddlement and marvel. "You were the boy, weren't you? The servant boy who got us out." Jack bit his lip, nodding once. "You saved her life, and mine…Then you restored her to me, yet," And though she asked…"You want no reward?"

Another shake of his head. "No."

She already knew. "Why the change of mind?"

And maybe that's what Hiccup felt this whole time. A grip in his thoughts that weren't his own, guidance offered by unfamiliar emotions and alien sensations that pulled the strings this way and that…"It was more a change of heart." But, try as he might to escape it— "I have to go." It was his role to play.

He gave a final bow, slipping past the door.

It wasn't over. He still had one last job to do.

.

"Jack!"

Said Guardian started, all-too familiar with that voice, as he turned to face him. "Hiccup— _!?_ "

It was decidedly a good thing that the stairs had railings.

 _Yes,_ he had seen him in a dress before.  _Yes,_  even a ball gown. Still…that didn't exactly explain why his knees felt like gelatin and why seeing the fishbone draped in imperial hues ( _Good,_ something absolutely irritable and stupid in his brain said,  _golden_   _court gowns really did look good on him_ ) made his throat go dry.

Hiccup blinked. "Why are you—"

Seriously, this was beginning to become a problem: those thoughts weren't  _that_  weird in the last story. Coughing, Jack settled for a more…evasive answer. "I…had business is complete."

Viridian eyes widened, an emotion flashing through them, too brief for the Guardian to catch. Stiffly, the auburn added, "I-I see…are you—"

"I will be leaving, yeah," Jack nodded. He had planned on seeing North first. The Guardian of Wonder always had his own crazy tales to tell; no doubt, this one would pique his interest…if not recruit his help. And he would have informed Hiccup of this as well.

At least, until the Major Domo came scurrying to the Viking's side, a terse reprimand to the house's newcomer. "Young man, you will bow and address the Princess as ' _Your Highness_.'"

Hiccup frowned. "No, that's not nec—"

" _Please_ …Your Highness." He swallowed his words as he gave another bow, something in his blood screaming for him to leave and leave  _now—_ to leave this tale behind and to return everything as it should be. Him as a Guardian in his lake in Burgess, Hiccup as a Viking back at Berk, a Princess to her royal lifestyle…"I'm glad you found what you were looking for." And a nobody without a home to return to.

Unknowing how else to respond, Hiccup sighed, offering this at the very least. "Yeah…I'm glad you did too."

"Well, then...Goodbye," Jack said, quickly adding, "Your Highness" after a beat.

Hiccup had tried to follow him, but the moment he did, the diamond ornament perched atop his head nearly toppled to the ground as the auburn made a swift turn to race down the stairs. The Major Domo stuttered out a relieved gasp as Hiccup stood, staring after Jack for a moment as he took his leave. His lips mouthed the words, barely a voice to carry them through the afternoon air. "Goodbye...

But it really wasn't. Jack would be back, a Guardian or four in tow, and they might just get the chance to go home; it was what they planned—it was what they agreed—it was  _how it should be_. This was their script now and they made do with what was allotted, made do with the roles they've been given, and made do with unforeseen dangers ahead. It would all be worth it if they managed to get home…just as Anastasia did.

Yet something  _still_  wasn't right.

He idly wondered if the weight of the crown that bore down on her had something to do with it as well.

.

Seeing the man and dragon dressed to the nines in courtly vestments, Jack chuckled as Vlad plucked a medal from Toothless's ensemble to add to his growing collection proudly displayed across his chest.

At hearing the sound, the man turned and Jack sent him a small smile. "Well…I guess this is it…" He might have not known the man for as long as Vlad knew Dimitri, but he'd miss the Russian. Even if he did play so heartlessly in chess. "So long, Vlad."

Although, he wasn't quite sure if he'd miss the crushing hug he'd just received.

The man patted his back, voice weighted with a deep rumble of sadness. "Oh, my boy…you're making a  _mistake_."

At the near-pleading in his words, something in Jack was torn between wanting to hopelessly believe it was true and departing to prove just how wrong he was. Right now, Jack was more inclined with the latter. "Trust me…this is how it's supposed to go." But did it matter? He had no choice either way.

Jack pulled away with a strained smile, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Anything that Vladimir wanted to say died in his throat at the stubborn conviction burning so brightly in his old partner's eyes, blinded to everything but his repentance. They were quite a pair—him and the princess. "When the time comes...you will see."

But the choice was not his to make.

(( _Left, right, counter and clockwise—a voice cackled in the dead skies._ ))

The dragon watched him with narrowed eyes, something disapproving and something reluctant in those glares of green. Jack sighed, a hesitant hand coming to rest on the top of black horns. "So long fire-spitter."

The Night Fury let out a low warble. If Hiccup had been able to translate, he would have thought Toothless said something along the lines of, " _You give in too soon."_

But Jack was none the wiser, scratching the bottom of his chin like he had seen Hiccup do many times before. "You keep that Viking of yours out of trouble, you hear?"

Toothless snorted; from his boy's luck, the pale one might as well ask for night not to fall.

.

Hiccup had to blink many times to keep him from slipping back into flashes of decrepit palaces and glittering ballrooms, of stone-faced paintings and the laughter of an enchanted crowd singing sweetly in the brightness of the moonlight room.

But this was different.

He watched on, couples embroidered in splendor, twirling in dignified grace to another song, an orchestra's strings swelling the Grand Palais* with its sweet tune. It was different, hearing the chatter, seeing their faces, so unlike the unearthly veil that had swept across his eyes and numbed his thoughts that lonely night before. And what was most different of all— she…was  _quiet_  now. Anya—Anastasia, Hiccup thought. Or, maybe  _quiet_  wasn't the word, but her thoughts retreated too far for his conscious to follow. And so it was Hiccup that was left to observe this magnificent world—a world in which she  _belonged_.

_Of balls and crowns and of gowns and thrones._

His gaze lingered to the latter—an ornate seat alone upon an empty stage. A few people from his periphery would point at the spot, engrossed in heated whispers with whoever was beside them. They were waiting, he knew. For him. For Anastasia.

A couple cut across his vision then, his vision of dread blighted by a stumbling waltz shared between two lovers, their movements far from the sweeping grace he had seen from the others, but their shared smile, their tender gaze, and the quiet words whispered between them echoed volumes of love that the structured dances did not.

It wasn't spoken in fluid movements, but tiny bursts of laughter and a chagrined face of the other, a kick to the other's shins and the reddening of cheeks from his partner. The others looked to them with muted disregard or perhaps a silent disdain and it was strange to see something like that—an  _honest_  performance—seen as something that should be stifled before the eyes of others. He was defensive, strangely so, and it was…

 _Weird_.

She was quiet—Anya, that was. But his heart still gave a painful clench at an unbidden image of a clumsy dance under the silence of starlight.

"He's not there."

Hiccup jumped, shutting the curtain with a jerk. "O-oh, I know he's—"

Marie raised a brow and Hiccup felt a flush of heat crawl up his cheeks.

"Uh, w- _who's_  not there, Grandmamma?" Damn. What was with little old ladies knowing everything, again?

But the Dowager Empress, ever a figure of finesse and nobility, waved off weak response. "A remarkable young man…who found a music box..."

The Viking swallowed, nodding.

All right. So yes, Hiccup was still worried about him. Of course he would—Jack might have his powers, but that didn't mean he wasn't in any less danger. But, as useless as it was to hope sometimes, he'd prefer thinking that Jack might be on his way now—to Northern Lights and icy cold, at home, at his element…and soon, Hiccup would be the same. "No he's probably off—wherever the winds take him." Still…that explained nothing of the ache he felt.

She concealed a smile, lifting a fold to behold the scene. "Look at them dance…" But as Hiccup peeked behind the curtain, her eyes lowered with a touch of melancholy. She regarded her granddaughter with gentle affection. "You were born to this world of glittering jewels and fine titles…" It was almost bitter. "But I wonder if this is what you really want." Almost.

Hiccup blinked, just slightly affronted. After everything he had been through? Through snow, fire, and storms, everything had led to this moment. "Of course it is!" Yet  _something_  still asked, ' _Isn't it?'_  "I found what I was looking for—I found out who I am—I-I found  _you_."

But those were  _his_  words: they didn't sound...quite so as impassioned as he would have liked. Didn't sound as  _happy_ as he would have liked. His thoughts turned to Anya and her silence…and why she still said nothing. After all this time…there was  _nothing_.

And after all this time, this woman, who Hiccup had only met some days ago, seemed to know all the answers. The warmth in her voice gave him that indication. "Yes, you did find me…and you'll  _always_ have me." Hiccup fell into her embrace, the scent of peppermint enveloping him, balmy, but not quite… "But is it enough?"  _Home._ "My darling—"

For a moment Marie just held him; from the glare of fantastical lights in fairytale balls, tears gleamed from the corner of her eyes. She was old; she lived a life of wonder and sacrifice; of love and loss; and she knew, though it would be the most difficult decision of all, she would not keep her beloved granddaughter from the happiness she deserved. She pulled away, looking at her Princess—crown too large for her head and all— and sighed.

"... he didn't take the money." Even if it meant she'd be letting her go.

It…was a strange declamation. Jack didn't seem like he'd need it, of course. Being a Guardian, he doubted any of them really needed coin to pay for any sort of expenditures (save perhaps the Tooth Fairy) and so, Hiccup didn't…quite know what to make of the statement.

Anya did, however. "He...didn't...?"

She took her hand, seeing so much of her son and even more of Alexandria's beauty, enchanting and lovely before her. "Knowing that you are alive, seeing the woman you have become, brings me joy I never thought I could feel again."

Anya embraced her, resting her chin on her grandmother's shoulder. Marie turned her gently, back to the curtain to look out at the gathering of nobility and august names before letting go. By then, the shade of ancient forests had returned, Hiccup left in wonder.

Marie smiled, too softly to hold the both the pain and the joy in her heart. "Whatever you choose—we will always have each other."

"Wait—"

But Marie was already gone.

Frowning and wondering what had just transpired back there, the auburn sighed. He really needed to be more careful; having Anya slip out like that could be…rather dangerous in some occurrences.  _But…_ Trepid and unsure, he pressed his palm to his heart, feeling a warmth spreading there. He…he guessed he had an idea why Anya was so insistent then…

Hiccup looked to the crowed, pushing past the curtain a little farther back to catch the Dowager Empress,but a sharp growl stilled his movement. He swiveled around, the dress halting the movement a bit, catching the bright red of a prosthetic tail disappearing through the terrace doors.

Hiccup frowned, picking up the dress's skirt to follow. "Toothless?"

But only shrill barks echoed in reply.

.

It never fades—not in any literal sense, anyways.

It was eternal—or as far as eternity could stretch—constant motion, of actions and reactions, push and pulls, light and dark. It swam in nebulas and stood at the heart of every galaxy, its truth written in baffling paradoxes and logic. And away, where the light would not touch, where melodic hymns and sweet symphonies echoed in distortion, sinister in their ethereal calls and where those voices lilted in the night's heart, those divergent forces snaked and snared  _in_   _wait_ —

It remained. Unfading, unending, lasting, and impatient, a debt to be collected—an innocent soul for one tainted by the dark.

.

It was there— _pulling_ ,  _lulling_ ,  _tugging_  him along with its eerie song; the Night Fury gave a violent shake, slipping free from its grasp, claws digging to the ground. Toothless barked in warning, the sound reverberating unevenly against the garden structures. In frustrating circles, he crawled sluggishly along the ground, flattening his ears to keep out intruding thoughts, coaxing voices, and dark promises. Further and further out into the topiary garden he went, towering hedges of magnificent creatures distorted by the dark guarding idly by.

The dragon slipped further into the very heart of night.

.

It had happened once before, and for Hiccup, that was once too many. Still, he found himself in a near-replicate situation. He sighed, sneaking past the doorway, mindful of the attention he might attract for ditching  _his_ ball, but  _his_  dragon was crying out in aggression and that took precedence over awkward introductions and too-stiff dances any day.

A howl resounded through the gardens; Hiccup hiked up his gown, heading towards the source of the cry, panic coursing through him. His dragonese might be rough, but he knew a distress call when he heard one.

The Viking submerged himself deeper and deeper into the winding maze; the gleam and glow of the ball left behind in the wake of gray marble and moonlight. A jolt of fear raced down his spine, blood turning cold as the air grew dead silent. Hiccup paused, listening intently. Something was there. Something that drew Toothless out in the open and lured him far away from prying eyes. But he continued anyways.

It was stupid—he knew that. It was stupid, it was everything Jack had feared about leaving Hiccup to find the other Guardians, and it was everything Hiccup promised he wouldn't do.

A keening growl sounded not too far away; Hiccup carried on.

But it was Toothless.

Trap or not,  _something_ had his dragon.

"Toothless?  _Toothless_!" Hiccup groaned; it was useless trying to calm his erratic heartbeat. So, naturally, he tried anyways.

And down, down, down he went—not quite through the rabbit-hole, but sinking deeper to the beast's den.

.

Silhouettes dance beneath moonbeams, a frantic figure hurrying along, fear in his step and panic in his blood. And for a moment—utter  _silence._ No barks, no shivering trees, not a breath of wind against his skin. The quiet ticks on, every passing second another a quickening of his pace.  _Alone_. He was alone…with  _something_ lurking by. And when he turned a corner, a curse slipped past his lips.

He was lost.

But at least with that daunting revelation— _a_   _bark_! Hiccup spun in circles, desperately trying to orient himself. And when he caught sight of bright red and the Hooligan tribe crest, he let out a noisy breath.

He rushed to the tiny dragon, noting something strange about the way the dragon twisted and turned, as if to rid something ahold of him. "Toothless? Over here, bud!"

With one final bark, the dragon fell silent, rousing from a dream—breaking a spell. With a disgruntled growl, Toothless turned his bright green eyes to his Viking, a low rumble moving through his small body. Hiccup let out a sigh, relieved. "What got into you?" ' _What got you?'_ he wanted to say…but he gathered the dragon in his arms anyways, whirling about to face—

A topiary bush. Blocking his way out.

Hiccup frowned, ignoring the squirming dragon in his arms. "That…definitely was not there before."

He turned, the breath knocked out of his lungs at yet another thorny obstruction in his path. ' _That wasn't there either—"_

Toothless growled as Hiccup retreated down the path, seeking another way. If Hiccup could afford to concentrate, he would have known the dragon said, " _It was foolish of you to come here."_ rather than " _We're following a fool's path."_  Hiccup veered off to the right, swallowing a gulp of fear, an uneven tempo in his chest. The gardens had rearranged, casting long shadows across his face like grasping fingers.

And as he looked back, momentarily catching a gulp of air, he promptly sputtered it out as the scene fell to the shadows. A loud quiver of gnarled thorns and leaves had left him in total blackness:  _trapped._ Toothless roared and thrashed in the auburn's arms, freeing himself as something sinister taunted him from the wisps of green with leathery wings and a malicious smile. But what held Hiccup's attention captive was entirely something else.

" _Anastasia_ …"

His breath quickened, eyes wide.  _Hell no._ He was  _not_ going down that easily. He grabbed his gown and yelled for Toothless to follow, darting to the slightest sliver of light he could find, squeezing through the small opening. His heart pounded erratically knowing that he had long lost his way through the moving maze; the dusk echoed of the clicking of a heel, his prosthetic, and Toothless's manic barks at everything and nothing at all.

"… _Anastasia_."

It might've been fruitless—he knew. He was neatly caught but that still didn't mean he wouldn't give whoever was tailing them a run for their money. He winced, stumbling a bit; the heel definitely not meant for night-time jogs around the gardens.

Still—definitely beats glass.

.

When he stumbled out of the maze (surprisingly unscathed) and the dim streetlights of the bridge's rails came into view, a small speck of hope flared within him.

" _Anastasia_ —"

Never mind.

Almost resigning himself, Hiccup turned, a sour grimace on his lips. A silhouette in the moonlight countered his gaze, hunched over as though muscle and bone atrophied like fouling flesh. A reliquary upon his person pulsed with ebbing light, highlighting a cruel smile and eyes agleam with malevolence. With a single stepped forward as Hiccup drew back, he gave a mocking bow.

"Your Imperial Highness…" he rasped; the sound sent cold fear thrumming down his veins. It wasn't the voice of a human… "Look what ten years has done to us: you a  _beautiful_  young flower and  _me_ …a rotting  _corpse_."  _Not anymore._

The light flared, illuminating some _thing_ —something not quite  _alive_ , not quite  _dead_. " _That face_ —!"  _Something in between._

His lips twisted to a cruel smirk. "Last seen at a party like this one."

Toothless snarled as Hiccup drew back, a memory surfacing; of a bitter winter chill, an uninvited guest. "A  _curse_..."

Hatred. Pure hatred burned in his eyes, half-mad with an ancient poison coursing through bones and flesh. "Followed by a tragic night on the ice— _REMEMBER_!?" A flash of light erupted, and  _cold—_ bone deep and sudden as a Flightmare's blast knocked Hiccup to the cobbled ground. All at once, it was no longer the season of rebirth, hope, and renewal but of  _death_ and desolation. All the while, the figure before him continued to grin, mouth split so wide Hiccup could nearly count every rotting tooth. But his  _eyes_ …they were watching back— "But… perhaps you  _don't_."  _Knowing_. "A  _curse_   _–hahahaha…_ quite different from  _yours_ , I assume?" Hiccup shakily stood, Toothless by his side at once, gaze defiant. "You may not  _be_  Anastasia…but you most certainly fit the  _role_." There was no mistaking it.

" _You_ —!"

"You don't belong here…" he spat as he eyed the boy, mouth twisting to a sneer. "A  _mistake_." He crept forward, insane little chuckles dotting his every breath. "That boy told you, didn't he?"  _Dread—_ sudden and abrupt as the words sank beneath his skin. "She  _died,_ "he hissed.

" _Jack_ —"

"You've a story to finish,  _Your Highness_." This time, there wasn't a smile left. "Yours…and  _mine_."

 _Run,_ something whispered and Hiccup obeyed without question.

"Did you really believe  _all_ fairytales had happy endings?" He hacked a cackle, an unstable blend of both giddy joy and spiteful hate as he continued on, pacing himself calmly as the Viking sprinted off to retreat, dragon scampering at his heels. "This was the role you were  _meant_ to fulfill." He lifted the reliquary, its sickly light pulsing with  _hunger._  "The Romanovs were meant to  _DIE!"_

' _Ice—why did it have to be ice?!'_ Hiccup grimaced, the crown barely hanging off his head as he ducked behind a marble base.  _This is bad—really, really bad._ Of course, given the situation and given that Hiccup is…well,  _Hiccup_ , things just  _had_ to turn out this way. Right as Jack left and is probably off getting help from his friends is just when a rotting corpse with a penchant for regicide wriggled his way out of Hel's grip to add his name to the list.

And of course, despite his breathing, weighted down with terror and annoyance and his still-thundering heartrate, he could distinctly hear the footfalls impending upon him. He sighed, slightly nauseas, hands shaking and cold with ice biting into his skin. But he was a Viking. And he would push on. "And…you really think I believe that?" He rested the back of his head against the stone, hands groping the structure for support. "If you were watching in the first place, you should know that we Vikings have stubbornness issues." A second later, adding, "Probably even more so in dresses."

A grin, cruel and wicked snaked across his face as a bat screeched into the night.

"Ah…but you're not the only one who needs a little… _adjustment_." Hiccup braced himself a second too late as a stream of crackling smoke fired from the reliquary, coating the bridge; innocence melted away from stone cherubs as the faces twisted in demonic designs. The ground quaked and ice and stone flew as Hiccup was thrown to the ground by the blast.

Picking himself up, a single name echoed in his thoughts as visions of fracturing ice danced behind his eyes. "I remember you..." Of a  _curse_ —

(( _I will not rest until I see the end of the Romanov line—_ ))

" _Rasputin_."

(( _FOREVER!))_

" _Rasputin_ , hahaha— _destroyed_  by her  _despicable_  family!" he hissed, eyes wild with fury. Loosening focus, he gave a grin, sharp like waning moons. "But what goes around comes  _around_!" He burst out in laughter as he raised the reliquary, smoke billowing to call his servants to his bidding. Born from hate and hellfire, a horde gathered, swarming towards the Viking in dizzying motion, taunting, reaching, and assailing him. "And around! And around! And  _around_! And  _around_!"

Lashing out and knowing he looked absolutely ridiculous trying to fight back against a cloud with sharp claws and possibly teeth Hiccup hurled the crown blindly towards the sea of sickly green. As the swarm put some distance between them from the Viking's movements, Hiccup mentally counted this as the second time his dress had been torn apart by some person who unfortunately couldn't pull off the garment as well as he could.

Out of breath and very much aware that chances of survival were dwindling in the single digits now, he still couldn't' help but slip, "Ugh…people like you—never seem to know how to let go of things, huh?"

Well, at least his humor was somewhat appreciated; the decaying figure barking out a grotesque laugh as he drew the devils forward once more. Eyes widening, the Viking scrambled backwards, arms swinging about to keep them back.  _Too many—!_ Something solid collided with his hip as his back arched against the side, about to tip over as the clustering horde drove him towards the railing.

An infuriated roar thundered from some distance away, a blur of angry flames and broken dragonese breaking through the throng of demons. " _Toothless_!" Black slits rounded as the dragon regarded him with affection before growling heatedly at the remaining clusters of green. With a signal from his partner, dragon-fire loosed, squawks from the creatures sounding through the air as they dissipated in retreat.

Glowering viridian locked his eyes onto Rasputin's. It was a fight he wanted, then it was a fight he'd get. "I'm  _not_  afraid of you."

Though there was definitely surprise in his smile, mixed with his utter insanity, the man merely cackled. "I can fix that!" He raised the reliquary, a cruel smirk in place. "Care for a little  _swim_  under the ice?"

' _Drowning—what was with this guy and drowning again?'_ Fumes shot from the Reliquary, melding into the air, a surge striking the ground as cracks raced across the bridge, a fit of laughter reverberating in the tense air. ' _Oh right…'_ The bridge creaked and moaned, horror dropping to the pit of his stomach as the foundation beneath the Viking's foot gave a treacherous lurch. ' _He died from it—from_ her.'

A sharp crack sailed through the air, a blast of snow and ice slammed into the Viking, throwing him backwards as he slid down the side, Toothless barking after him until a cloud of green snaked around his form. The dragon yelped as claws and teeth razed his scales—his shot count burned to zero.

Hiccup winced as the sharp laugh reached his ears once more, coated with venom. "Say your prayers!" And as he looked to him, the decaying face darkened with malice as he jeered. "You've met your  _end_."

" _Highly doubt it!"_

Rasputin spun around just in time to see Jack charging right at him. A flurry of frost knocked him to the side, the reliquary in his hand shooting blindly, striking the bridge. With a yelp, Hiccup slipped further downward as pieces of the bridge crumbled under the attack.

At the sound, Jack called out, " _Hiccup?!"_ He leaped over the side, heart in his throat when it took him more than five seconds to catch sight of the Viking.

But—there he was, dangling there, a metal support keeping him aloft; the Viking scoffed at the incredulous sight of the Guardian  _floating_ before him. "Oh, back so soon?"

Jack grinned and Hiccup  _swore_ he his hands nearly slipped only because it finally registered that Jack was  _flying_. "Of course! I couldn't leave you behind!" He gathered the Viking in his arms, Hiccup decidedly thinking that this wasn't exactly the time to start feeling emasculated, what with the gown and all—and he truly expected Jack to make some quip about him being the damn damsel— but…he doesn't. He merely held Hiccup close— _because he's flying right now and the dress is huge—_ and Hiccup feels chagrined for being carried like this, but when Jack's not opening his mouth and making dumb commentary and just looks at him like that, his eyes soft and practically  _sparkling,_ it's…actually, almost sw—"The last time that happened, you got trapped in an attic. "

Well so much for that. But Hiccup refrained from smacking him, if only because he was still hovering over icy waters. "How chivalrous. You know, it's not exactly my fault! Trouble seems to be an occupational hazard for royalty." Huffing, Hiccup had to ask: "How'd you find me anyways?"

Jack scoffed, chiding as he set Hiccup down. "I saw a huge commotion—you can't really miss it from up there. Naturally, I thought of you. "

Before Hiccup could throw a biting retort back at him, their banter was cut short. "How  _enchanting_ ," Of course, that wasn't the end of it. Not with Rasputin shakily stalking towards them with a twisted smile. "' _Together_   _again_ '… for the last  _TIME_!" He fired the reliquary, aiming for a new target now as a flight of minions knocked Jack higher and higher into the air, slamming him onto a Pegasus monument. "You'll get a  _kick_  out of this!"

The statue's eyes gleamed with blind vehemence, limbs moving fluidly as it leaped off the column, throwing Jack against the rough motion. Gathering himself, the Guardian shot forward into the blackened skies, the possessed creature letting out a grotesque cry.

The two were locked in flight, a challenger of flight and stone against Winter's ice.

_A distraction._

And as rime and marble wings soared across the sky, Hiccup gasped as a cold hand grabbed his arm, hurling him back against the crumbled railing. He writhed as bony fingers clutched at his neck, an unnatural strength lifting him towards the open waters, keeping him captive despite the way he kicked and battered against the other's hold. Miasma of green wafted from the vial, but  _red_ swam in his vision—spilled blood and a nation's angry flames set against the falling frost and bitter winters in the eyes that had seen too much of this life and the in-between. "Do svidaniya,  _Your_   _Highness_." Eyes that have been waiting for it all to end.

And suddenly—

—he's  _falling_ —

—air passing through him too fast for his breath to catch.

Cloaked shoulders quaked, a sinister laugh erupting from his mouth, fouling the air as chaos reigned the night: a contract completed and a crown lost; a dragon howled in agony. " _Finally_ , the last Romanov  _death_!"

Distracted for that moment, Jack felt his blood run cold as the words registered. No longer able to see the Viking's figure on the bridge, the Guardian scrambled to the site. "Hiccup—Hiccup  _hold on_!" Those four seconds cost him as solid marble tackled him backwards, a violent cry erupting from nightmared fable.

But even then, there was nothing the Guardian could do; that made Rasputin's victory  _all_ the sweeter. "You're too  _late—_ I _—!?"_

The gloating was cut short as strong jaws clamped down on the rotting flesh, infuriated green eyes narrowed to slits at the  _un-_ human with an infuriated cry, the dragon dodged the kicks and blasts from the reliquary, size and agility utilized to his advantage. But among the curses and commotion in the skies,  _something_ made the dragon's ears prick up. It took only a second, but with that afforded pause, Rasputin managed to land a shot at the Night Fury, the small body hurling towards the black waters. One look over the bridge's collapsed construction, Rasputin noted with a relieving sense of victory—the dragon and Viking had perished under roiling waves and towards a frigid death. He gave a grim smile.  _They won't be cold for long—not where they're headed._

_All of them._

A shot of ice to stony wings slowed the beast down, long enough for Jack to race to where Rasputin stood, cloak billowing in the night's gales. " _No_! HICCUP!"

Jack flew off the ledge, eyes in desperate search for an auburn head, a golden gown, or the bright red of a tailfin. He blinked for a second before he found himself crushed against cold marble and fiery eyes, the Pegasus charging at him and ramming him off to the side; his fingers slipped and a whinny sliced through the blearing aches. Then—a sickening crack resounded through the air and a sharp pain jolted down the Guardian's chest.

The staff laid, crushed beneath a stone hoof, the possessed creature's eyes meeting his own with a fierce glow. Without warning, it charged, and Jack—

_Couldn't fly._

He leaped nimbly, the creature crushing its large body against the exact spot where he had laid; unknowing of what to do next, he gripped its reigns and hung on as it carried him, attempting to throw the Guardian off its back.

Watching the scene unfold, and not really caring if one more unmarked grave graced his conditions, a cackle swelled before bursting out in hideous dysphonia. " _Long live the Romanovs_!"

"Couldn't have said it better myself!" And Hiccup lunged at him, the momentum of 90 pounds of raw Vikingness knocking Rasputin to the ground.

It honestly didn't take much of a genius to figure that the source of the nut's power laid in the glowing cylinder—and from the way he kicked and thrashed as they grappled for it, Hiccup was right. As the Viking managed to loosen the other's hold on the reliquary, it rolled away from his grasp before his fingertips could graze the ancient surface. Pushing the auburn off with a desperate shove, Rasputin grabbed it, conjuring a stream of Minions at the stubborn royal.

Or, he would have if a blur of black and a touch of red didn't blast his outstretched hand with a searing flame. With a wounded cry from both Rasputin and somewhere a small distance off, the reliquary rolled.

But while Rasputin kept his eyes and ears trained on the glass, Hiccup's attention had been stolen by something else entirely. He had heard the noise—the wraithlike cry of a wounded steed and the sight of Jack, lying too still, too silent—unnatural, not at all how he  _should_ be, beneath the debris. The sight of it froze his blood in his veins—because  _it had gone too far_ and now,  _Jack_ was  _hurt._

Unlike the reliquary—cracked around the edges, but still decidedly whole.

 _It wasn't as though_ fire  _could kill something born of sin._

But, perhaps a metal prosthetic would.

The cloaked figure watched with horror as it rolled beneath the iron limb, but pure _fear_  coursed through him at the sight of the boy. There was something there, in those eyes. Not the glittering  _Romanov_ hue that the man had cursed in his lifetime and damned in his death…but in the acidic  _green_ that glowed with something  _dark,_ something that tainted the image of the storybook princess. But…after all, it was a merely a  _role,_ wasn't it?

There was a coldness there, in those pools of ancient forests that cooled even dragon-fire with its malice. And as he spoke, not a hint of mercy sounded from his lips. " _This is for Jack_."

The glass creaked, fissures snaking across the surface. As though his body were crushed with a sudden weight, Rasputin fell to the ground, hissing and spitting as he crawled to the beast tamer. "Give it back!"

Eyes that beheld kindness often bestowed the harshest of punishments. " _This—is for Anya_." Hiccup brought down his prosthetic, large cracks encircling the vial.  _Nikolas, Alexandria, Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Alexei—_ for a young girl and the family he had destroyed.

For the  _lives_ he had destroyed. " _I'll tear you to pieces!_ " he snarled, gripping the hem of his dress with shaky hands.

The Viking crushed the glass and slid it away from bony fingers, the sharp noise of its surface scraping against cobbled ground as it was smashed against a metal heel. A horrified scream, injured and defeated, resounded as a man laid at Hiccup's feet, alive, dead—something in-between.

_But not for long._

"And  _this_?" All trace of mockery is gone; what's left to fester there is burning rage. "This is for  _you._ "

"— _NO_!"

Weight and iron against the brittle vial crushed the glass to pieces, a  _satisfying_ shatter of a contract echoing through the dark as Anya breathed, eyes a Romanov blue, " _Do svidaniya._ _"_

_Cold dread was the last thing that flooded his soul._

Hiccup leaped back as a blare of green light surged into the cloaked figure, coursing into him like an electric current, the enveloping explosion a shockwave that pushed Hiccup and Toothless back. The beacon heralded the summoned denizens of fiery abysses, wings beating him down—enveloping him—circling him,  _vultures_  awaiting the  _kill_.

In the throes of death, his second and final, skin melted off bone, as though hellfire had coursed through seared veins before the bones shattered. All the while, it was  _screaming_  before the form of a skull faded into the winds.

.

While that scene might've been branded in his mind forever—an interesting new selection added to the 'recurring nightmares' portion in his brain, there were other things to worry about at that moment. Like Jack, who had not only missed out in the grand finale, but who might also be sustaining grievous injuries.

Picking up his dress, Hiccup crossed the bridge to where the Guardian fell, unmoving and eerily quiet. "Jack…? Jack  _please_ …c'mon you said no one was dying here, right?" Hiccup knelt beside him. Gently, or as  _gently_ as shaky fingers could manage, Hiccup brushed the strands from the pale face. "Jack…"  _No, no—_ he was  _fine_ , he was okay—! There was no need to panic, no need at  _all_ , his voice was certainly not cracking and his hand certainly wasn't reaching for the other's to check for a pulse—

There was no need anyways because, obviously, the dead can't groan.

" _Jack_!" Still, that didn't stop Hiccup from gasping the other's name in relief.

Taking care to help the Guardian sit up to rest against the wall, Hiccup pulled back, surveying the other's damage. Despite the multitude of bruises littering his body and what was probably an achy rib or two, nothing life-threatening seemed to ail him. "…Okay," Jack groused. "I prefer waltzing."

If he was okay enough to crack a joke already, then Hiccup supposed he was okay enough for a hug—or rather, that was the mentality Hiccup convinced himself of having as he threw his arms around the other.

He pulled back a second later though when Jack started whining. " _Definitely_  waltzing.  _Ow, ow, ow, ow_... Oh no—let go! Let  _go_ — easy there..."

" _Sorry_!"

But despite that, the Guardian regarded him with a smile as he sat up straighter. Hiccup returned it with a shaky one of his own, hair a mess, soft green eyes, and dress hanging off one shoulder; the place was a mess and he was a mess, but a decidedly good-looking one. Jack could only wonder what he looked like right now in comparison; probably leaning more to the busted bridge in comparison.

And he felt like it to match. "Yeah, yeah…ugh…tell that to my head." He winced. "And my ribs…and back back… _owww_ …"

And despite how Hiccup was known more for  _causing_ injury than treating it, he moved towards Jack, holding him close to steady him into a more comfortable position. And—suddenly their faces were moving closer together too, a hesitancy lingering behind an unspoken tenderness and something else that managed to sputter out in their words.

Softly, as though the moment would shatter, Hiccup murmured, "I thought you were going to see the other Guardians..."

Jack nodded, eyes not quite meeting the other's. "I…was..."

Frowning, Hiccup asked, "Did time...?"

A shake of his head. "No…it kept going, even when I was about to leave."

The auburn blinked, mouth suddenly dry, and pulse erratically racing. "Why— didn't you, then?"

"Because...I—" And maybe the reason why Jack wasn't looking at his eyes were because his own were directed at the other's mouth, a rush of blood flooding his cheeks at the decreasing proximity between them, their breaths mingling in the Parisian air—something blossoming in the city among the roses and thorns, something that drew Jack to the other boy, opposite forces of ice and fire, something magnetic, something erupting in tiny sparks in their blood beneath a silent moon and within the city that made moments like these famous.

But, because it was a city, the noise pollution also came with the package.

They jerked apart at the soft croons and turned to Toothless, a glittering crown in his mouth; another shiny thing for his treasure. The dragon set it on the ground, happy that both his human and his not-human are alive and well, so much so that he didn't even mind that it was Jack that took it instead and placed it in his Viking's hands.

' _Mood ruined_.' But Hiccup had long learned to ignore those annoying thoughts. He sighed. "Well it was a good thing anyways; honestly Jack, you trusted getting your powers back from  _that_ guy?!"

Confusion washed over his face before giving shaking his head. "That…wasn't who offered me my powers, Hiccup."

He stopped, eyes wide.

(( _Beginnings—endings, cycles, catastrophic and cataclysmic, it is far from done._ ))

"But…Then who—?"

The truth evaded the pair; somewhere,  _something_  else lurked, some force greater and more sinister than a power-mad fraud who sold his soul to kill those who betrayed him. It waited—but for  _what_? Without a motive, without a name, without a  _face_ , all Hiccup could see was a blank figure—tugging the strings and drawing knots, a cackle in the dark, the universe shifting clockwise, then counter.

Jack sighed, drawing the memory to the forefront of his mind. "I don't know. I've never met her before. I couldn't see much from her robe…but the voice was definitely female."

This time, it was Hiccup's turn to groan; well great: that narrowed down their list to probably half of every person they  _have_  and  _will_  encounter. "Nothing else?" Hiccup pressed. "Just…a  _voice_?"

Frowning, Jack repressed a shiver as a certain…oddity burned in his mind. "Eyes…" he breathed. "She had this… _intense_  stare— but that was all I could see from behind her cloak."

"Her eyes huh…"  _A flash of a memory, too far for him to reach_ —the image slipping past his fingers and the fine grains through his mind's sieve: a gray cityscape and a palace were all he could recall. "Do you think she's the cause of all this?"

"She talked in halves and in-betweens. I'm not sure…" Jack sighed, already missing the wood of his staff. "If she is, what do we do?"

Hiccup was silent for a moment, a hard look of concentration scrunching his brow. "…We'll wait for her in the next tale. Call me cynical…but we're not done yet. She's not through with using us for whatever she needs." He faced Jack, determined: "We'll find her again."

Agreeing, the Guardian nodded. "So…we finish this one up first."

"That's our best bet. Unless you'd like to scour the four corners of the earth—by all means, be my guest," Hiccup replied. The staff was nowhere in sight, probably plunged down to the very bottom of the river by then.

But, surprisingly, Jack merely peeked up at him behind a messy fringe of white strands. "…Found your prince yet?"

Hiccup sent him a bland look. "Anya wasn't looking for a prince—you  _know_  that. She… _found_  what she was looking for." But her grandmother's words still echoed—even as Hiccup himself denied it. "If she already got her happy ending then…why are we still here?"

(( _Is it enough?_ ))

And seeing it there, in front of him and in his own hands, maybe that was the question he should have asked all along.

But Jack merely shrugged and perhaps understanding a bit more than he let on. "Maybe…maybe she had a change of heart."

Hiccup blinked at him before his eyes darted back to the crown. Shining and glittering in all its splendor, it was a pain to wear. And looking at Jack—mischievous and the source of many-a grievances from Hiccup—was… _nice_ to be around.

And maybe— _just_ maybe…Anya felt the same way with Dimitri.

Because maybe Jack was right and in  _this_ world—there was too much that stood between one with nothing and one burdened with everything that came with a name. Because in  _this_ world—it took more than a dance and a ball gown to fall in love—and it took a lot more than a pure heart and a wave of a wand to find one another amid the calamity of this strange and vast universe.

Even then…it didn't hold a candle to falling in love. Hopelessly, deeply, and irrevocably  _in_   _love_. Beneath it all, it  _would_ triumph, superseding even the barricades of strife, hate, death, and name. All it took was a choice. And…though begrudging to admit to Hiccup—he'd much rather make this choice with Jack. Because in the end, Anya  _chose_ Dimitri.

"…She'd have never found her family without Dimitri…but now…without him—it would never be home." Words—thick with a heavy Russian accent rose to his thoughts, a smile quirking at the soothsaying from a certain court-member-turned-conman. " _'Home becomes a person…'_ "

Jack gave a dazzling grin. "You're turning down a royal title for  _me?_  Hiccup, I'm  _touched_!" But secretly, or maybe not so with how wide Jack was smiling, but he was very much pleased.

Hiccup rolled his eyes but not without a touch of pink dusting his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah, sound the wedding bells…in the end…looks like we're stuck with each other." He sighed, crossing his arms. "So I guess no matter how it goes, you're still my prince, huh?"

"Looks that way." And really, though he tried to at least appear sheepish, he was  _still_ smiling too much for it to have any effect.

Hiccup shook his head, holding back a snort and trying to stop any further reddening of his face. "You look way too eager for me to be comfortable."

Jack frowned. "You're a real moment-killer you know that?" Still, he didn't deny it. It made this whole story-process all the easier right? (Okay, so maybe Jack didn't buy that excuse either.) But having almost died… _again_ for this fishbone in drag…Jack was starting to guess it was kind of worth it. He liked the kid. He never had a problem admitting that. "So…is this…?" It was the  _other_  things he wasn't sure about that he had trouble with.

Hiccup bit his lip—a nervous gesture. "I guess…"

' _A nervous gesture that could have been interpreted much differently.'_ It…was other thoughts, much like that one, that Jack wasn't so sure of. And…just like Hiccup, maybe he could pin it on Dimitri. Except…it wasn't exactly  _Anya_ with her Romanov eyes that Jack was leaning towards to kiss—it was  _Hiccup_ —sarcastic, sour-sweet, and sharp-witted and sharper-tongued whose lips he had been eyeing since he came-to from a nauseating carousel-ride with a runaway Pegasus.

And Toothless, decidedly tired of waiting for the two to stop dancing around one-another, butted his Viking's back gently—to hasten the painstakingly slow process. With a lurch, Hiccup stopped moments before their lips brushed—a small yelp escaping from the slighter boy. Looking at one another, Jack at least matched the other with an embarrassed chuckle.

Though, Jack's was still less-embarrassed and a  _lot_ more infuriating. "Hah, now who's ea—!"

So Hiccup silenced him with a kiss, sweet and simple and made Jack's head spin in a happy sort of dizzy way, drowning out the world around them till nothing remained but a pair of lips locked against his own, fitting perfectly together.

.

Sophie set down the letter, tears stinging her eyes. "Oh my—they've  _eloped_! How  _romantic!_ " She gave a gleeful clap.

After years of hoping, waiting, and yearning; through all the years, tears, and painful memories that lead to that brief but cherished union…and on towards the happy ending their dear Anastasia chose for herself. Fate turned to her favor, the wheel turning clockwise, then counter, fortune's laughter a melody for the few blessed hearts, its gentle ring carried off to the open blue, leaving promises and possibilities in its wake.

"It's the perfect ending…" Sophie decided.

"No…" Marie said, a touch of melancholy brightened with a peace her soul had not known until now; of the impossibilities that found her happiness and a parting that delivered her hope. "It's the perfect beginning."

* * *

And somewhere, on a ferry in Paris, Jack attempted to hoist his bride and spin him around in his arms; in doing so, his bride freaked the fuck out and accidentally crushed his ribs (yet again) with a metal prosthetic.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I am so sorry for this one.
> 
> There we have it; Anastasia might have ended, but our story's not over yet! … T T I know, shocking:this has a real plot! (sorta; you'll get what I mean at the end of all this)
> 
> * = The Grand Palais des Champs-Élysées, commonly known as the Grand Palais; it's a large historic site with a museum and exhibition hall, where Anastasia was announced to be reintroduced to the public.
> 
> -Peppermint: olfactory senses have been known to be best connected with memory.
> 
> -Rasputin knew they weren't of this world, yes. Characters associated with magic have been able to detect that Hiccup and Jack weren't of their world and it will probably be a continuing trend. Probably. Also, if you're wondering how to he lifted Hiccup so easily, all I can blame is the reliquary. And he knew about Jack and Hiccup's talks for the same reason as well.
> 
> -Hiccup isn't the only one capable of being swayed by his role.
> 
> -"Do svidaniya" – something along the lines of 'Till (the next) meeting.' I don't know…maybe Rasputin (in the movie) expected to see all the Romanovs in hell?
> 
> -1st time Hiccup was in a dress: Sleeping Beauty; 2nd: Cinderella's day clothes (nightgown doesn't count); 3rd: Cinderella's mother's dress; 4th: the ball gown the Fairy God Mother made; 5th: Cinderella's wedding dress; 6th: the dress Jack (Dimitri) bought him (Anya was actually wearing boys' clothes when she left the orphanage); 7th: purple Chanel dress in Paris; 8th: Another (teal?) dress Sophie forced him to wear in that same night; 8th: the blue gown at the Paris Opera; 9th: the golden ball gown Anastasia wore.
> 
> Well…let's see where that takes us, shall we?


End file.
